


Amethyst

by MissWia



Series: 366 Days of Writing [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Multi, Platonic Relationships, Underage - Freeform, alternate universe - everybody lives/nobody dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 17:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 29
Words: 32,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5879293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWia/pseuds/MissWia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their stories were written in the stars, there for anyone to read. Few, however, cared to look.</p><p>Month Two of my 366 Days of Writing challenge. Tags will be updated as needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nori/Bofur

**Author's Note:**

> Feburary will start with some NorixBofur!

As a child, he'd been told that dolls were for girls. He remembered questioning the logic even then, at such a young age. If he wanted to pretend he was a dad taking care of his kids and wife then he would need a dolly. But, his mother was insistent, and gave him a toy truck instead. He didn't even like trucks and had been very upset. His mother had meant well, but that was the day Nori swore he would never force another person to do something they didn't want to do. Especially a child.

When little Ori, recently turned five and eager for his birthday present, told him that he would like a baby doll that made noises when you rocked it he happily obliged him. Dori sputtered and fussed, subtly trying to change their brothers mind with temptations of other things, but Nori quickly shut him down.

"If the kid wants a doll, I'm getting him a doll. If he wants a dress to play dress up, then he'll get that. And you won't tell him it's wrong or you and I will have words," he threatened before hurrying Ori out the door before their brother could regain his words. In Dori's case it wouldn't be long.

He happily took his brother's hand and began to walk to toward town, little Ori chattering a mile a minute about all the things he found interesting. Occasionally Nori would interject with a sound of amazement and wonder, but mostly stuck to smiling as his brother continued on.

They were lucky in that they didn't live far from the main town center, just a short walk from their home. A perk of being part of a small community.

"Which toy store should we visit," he asked, already knowing what Ori would say.

"Ered Luin," the little boy cheered, pulling his older brother with all his strength in the direction of the shop. Nori let himself be dragged by the child, an amused smirk on his face.

Ori loved Ered Luin, the little toy shop run by a man named Bifur. He didn't speak much English, being a Russian immigrant, but his cousins did and were more than happy to translate for him. And he made such wonderful toys. Toys of much better quality than those found in the big chain stores. Plus, every child in town knew that if you went with your parents or guardians to Ered Luin for a toy, it was very likely you could convince them to get a few sweet treats from the bakery next store, Bag End.

The store itself was set right on the Main Street, it's cheerfully yellow store front with a large display case a beacon to anyone who passed. Nori finally let Ori's hand go so he could eagerly peer at the toys on display, little nose pressed against the glass as he carefully examined everything inside. He gave him a moment before reminding him why they were there.

"Or do you not want a toy anymore," he teased, holding the entrance door open for his brother. Ori gave him a childish look of exasperation which clearly translated that he thought his older brother was an idiot if he thought Ori forgot their true purpose there. His birthday only came once a year and he would never forgo the gift that came along with it.

Chuckling, he followed behind him, content to let him explore all the aisles for the right toy. Ori had very specific taste, and the doll he chose would meet them.

Nori waited near the front, browsing what else they had to offer and making little mental notes for other gifts for Ori. Just because he was picking out a birthday gift now didn't mean he wouldn't get more later. It was only right that the youngest of them got spoiled. He was in the middle of comparing two toy tea sets when a voice cleared itself behind him. Turning he met the smiling face of Bofur Urson, cousin of Ered Luin's owner Bifur, and a toy maker himself.

"Anything I can help ya with," he asked, his voice lightly accented with his native Russian tongue.

Bofur was a handsome man, Nori wasn't shy to admit. His shoulder length dark hair was always constantly tussled, and it paired nicely with his carefully twirled mustache. His good looks were only amplified by his sunny disposition. Bofur was well known through town as a man of smiles and jokes who never seemed to have a bad day.

"How durable are these tea sets," Nori asked, focusing away from the relationship merits of the man in front of him. It was very likely that the toy maker's interest lay with the opposite gender and Nori himself was done with falling in love with straight men. It was too much of a hassle.

"Very durable," Bofur replied, picking up one of the little cups and tapping it against the counter. "They're not made from glass, rather a special clay blend. Family secret, you know," he winked.

Nori nodded in response, but before he could reply Ori returned from his search, little hands holding a doll dressed in pink.

"Nori, this one! It cries and laughs. Look," he exclaimed, gently rocking the toy back and forth. It responded with a recorded giggle, much to the little boy's delight.

"A very good choice," Bofur praised. "That is one of our best sellers. She'll certainly love it, the friend you're getting it for."

Ori giggled up at him.

"It's for me. It's my birthday today," he happily informed. Bofur's eyebrows raised in surprise, no doubt a little stunned at the information.

Nori frowned, stepping forward to protectively shadow his brother. The toy maker looked at him, eyes softening at the gesture. He graced them with a soft smile, free of any discomfort or awkwardness.

"My apologies. You will certainly enjoy this doll," he promised, walking to the check out counter to help them finish their shopping.

Nori cautiously followed behind. He knew how cruel adults could be when faced with something that differed with their views of the world. He didn't want Ori to have to face any of that.

But Bofur just rang them up, happily chatting with little Ori about anything he wished. He handed the doll to the boy with a smile before turning around and grabbing something from the shelf display behind him.

"There you are," he said with a smile, handing Ori the package he grabbed. "A birthday gift from us here at Ered Luin."

Ori delightfully took the present. Nori was so sure.

"That's really unnecessary," he said. Bofur waved his hand.

"Nonsense! It's his birthday and he deserves presents. Plus, you can't have a doll without having an extra outfit to change it into. It won't do."

It was Nori's turn to act surprised. He looked at the present in Ori's hands, and sure enough it was another outfit for his new doll. A little purple dress with bright yellow flowers along the hem with a matching bonnet. It was something that he knew Ori would greatly treasure.

"Thank you," he replied, honestly grateful at the acceptance of his little brothers choice.

Bofur shrugged, eyes warm and understanding.

"Just giving a kid a birthday present. Nothing so special about that."

Nori chuckled dryly.

"I wish everyone thought like that."

Bofur's small smile was sad, but also hopeful.

"Someday they will. They just need to be shown the right way."

Nori wished he felt such hope, but he saw the world in a much harsher light. The toy maker seemed to sense his pessimism and reached behind his counter a second time and handed something small to Nori.

The red haired man looked at it, confused at the sight of a little carved bear holding a little balloon with the words ' ** _Tomorrow Is A New Day_** ' along it.

He looked up at the toy maker, who was grinning unabashedly at him.

"We all need a little reminder that shadows don't last forever. Especially handsome men who know there is nothing shameful about a little boy playing with dolls," he winked. Nori felt himself blush at the compliment. He nodded his head, fist closing around the gift.

"Thank you," he said again. Again, Bofur waved him off. Nori nudged his brother, a gentle reminder for him to also thank the man. He did eagerly.

"Thank you for the doll and dress, Mister Bofur!"

"A pleasure lad. Make sure you and your handsome brother come back so you can tell me how you like it, alright?"

Ori eagerly nodded, but Nori felt his cheeks burning even more.

"Time to go Ori," he quickly intervened, needing to get away before he made a fool of himself. Bofur didn't seem at all offended, waving them off cheerfully.

"See you both soon," he promised with a sly wink.

Nori found himself nodding before rushing outside. The sound of light chuckles followed them.


	2. Ori/Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin knew it was wrong. Ori was his student. He found that he didn't care though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Underage relationship ahead. Thorin is a teacher and Ori is his student. Definite age difference.

It was wrong of him, he knew that. However, Thorin couldn’t find it in him to stop. Ori was his student, but he wished it could be so much more between them.

The boy was sixteen, quiet when compared to his peers and with an insatiable thirst for knowledge. Often times Thorin would see him curled up beneath one of the trees in the courtyard during free period with a book, though it was never the same one. He never joined his classmates for any of the silly games they played, preferring his own company over theirs. It was one of the many reasons that drew Thorin’s attention to him.

With his quietness came a kindness that the older man found was rare in this world. Never one to talk out of turn or have anything bad to say about another person. He genuinely saw the best in everyone, which was a balm to his own scarred and bleak outlook.

Ori was everything Thorin was not. Light where he was dark, gentle where he was harsh. Innocent where he was jaded.

And that was what he craved above all else. The innocence the boy held.

So he continued to watch, knowing that he was damned to hell for the thoughts in his head. He found that he didn’t care all that much. Patiently he waited for his chance, hoping that if he played his cards right he would get all that he ever desired. And then that chance came.

It was raining, forcing everyone to stay within the building until school let out. This meant that free period, normally a time to escape the confines of the classroom, was held indoors. Thorin knew this also meant Ori was without a spot to read, away from the noise and chaos of the other students. So he sought him out.

He found him standing at the edge of a crowded hallway, eyes wide and lost as he took in the sheer volume of those around him with a book clutched tightly against his chest. Sensing his opportunity, Thorin approached him.

“Ori,” he greeted, his voice pitched deep and solemn. The boy looked up at him, brown eyes still wide. A fragile smile played at the corner of his lips.

“Hello, Mister Oakenshield,” he replied. Thorin made a show of looking around at the commotion in the hall before turning back to him.

“Why don’t you come to my classroom for free period? I imagine you would enjoy time away from all the noise.”

The boy’s eye lit up with wonder and hope.

“Can I, sir? It won’t be a bother,” he asked, chewing on his lip with uncertainty. Thorin found he had a hard time looking away from the sight. He felt his stomach twist with desire. Oh, how he desperately wanted this boy. He betrayed none of this, though, lest he ruin his chance with him forever. Instead, he replied as if he was completely unaffected.

“It’s no bother. You would be most welcome.”

The boy gave him a brilliant smile, the grip he had on his book lessening.

“Thank you, sir!”

Thorin nodded and gestured him to follow. He lead the way toward his classroom, Ori dutifully following along behind him.

The halls near where he taught were empty, far in the back of the building that no one ever saw fit to visit during free period. It was perfect for his own plan.

Opening his classroom door, he let the boy enter first before joining him inside. He shut the door, subtly twisting the lock so that no one would disturb them.

“Please, sit,” he said, pointing to a free desk before his own. Ori happily took it, placing his book on the table in front of him. Thorin watched him settle, eyes fixed on the gentle slope of his neck that was bare to him.

 _Patience_ , he cautioned himself. _He will be yours soon enough._

“Would you like some tea? I have a few to choose from.”

“If you have green tea then yes, please,” the boy replied with a small smile. Thorin nodded, moving to fix him a cup. From the corner of his eye he saw the boy open his book, the smile still on his face as he began to devour the words within. His red fringe fell against his eyes, which he occasionally swept away with delicate fingers but would ultimately fall back against his gaze. When those fingers weren’t sweeping away his hair, they gently caressed the pages of his book, softly stroking up and down. Thorin imagined what such feather like touches would feel like against his naked skin. He needed to know.

Tea made, he placed it on the boy’s table before leaning against his own, blue eyes fixed on the boy. At first, Ori didn’t seem to notice him watching. It was only when he happened to glance up that he finally did.

“Are you alright, Mister Oakenshield,” he asked, lowering his book politely. Thorin nodded, eyes still set on the boy.

“Just thinking, lad.”

Ori tilted his head in confusion.

“About what,” he asked curiously. Thorin smirked down at him.

“You,” he answered honestly. This seemed to add to the boy’s confusion, much to Thorin’s amusement.

“Me? Why would you be thinking about me?”

Thorin chuckled, a dark, enticing sound.

“I think about you often, Ori. Far more than you could imagine.”

The boy stilled, staring at him like a doe caught in the sights of a stranger. Cautious, but not yet frightened.

“But why?”

Thorin shrugged, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Why not? You are a pretty thing and I find that thinking of you makes my day all the more pleasant. Does that make you uncomfortable?”

The boy hesitated, clearly not wanting to upset him. That was just the kind of person Ori was, a pleaser until the end. Thorin used it to his advantage.

“No,” he finally answered. “It doesn't make me uncomfortable. If thinking of me makes you happy, then that’s good. Everyone deserves to be happy.”

The older man smiled. Ori was truly a rare gift in this cruel world, so naïve and unassuming. Thorin found that he not only wanted him just for himself, he wanted to protect him from anyone else. Anyone else would ruin Ori. Not Thorin though. Thorin would keep him safe.

He stepped away from his desk and approached the boy’s seat.

“You know what would truly make me happy, Ori?”

The boy shook his head, looking up at him. The teacher smiled down at him, hand coming up to gently stoke the side of his face.

“If I could kiss you.”

Using the hand still caressing his cheek, he carefully guided the boy up so he stood with him, his body flush against his own. He leaned down until his lips were just barely brushing against the Ori’s.

“May I kiss you, Ori,” he asked in a whisper, blue eyes staring intently into brown ones. The boy clumsily nodded, eyes fluttering shut as Thorin closed the distance between them.

The older man took the lead in the kiss, dominating the boy until he bent to his will. Soft lips opened to his probing tongue, letting him to where he was certain no other had gone before. It was intoxicating, kissing Ori.

With a groan he pulled him even closer, hands groping all they could reach. He felt Ori respond in kind, thin arms wrapping around his own neck. Thorin growled at the response, lifting the boy up so that he was forced to wrap his legs around his waist. The new position had them in contact even more, much to Thorin’s primal delight.

He forced himself to slow down, though. If he rushed things here, not matter how wonderful it would be, it would scare the boy away for good. And he didn’t want that. Reluctantly he broke the kiss and moved to sit the boy on his table.

“Thank you, Ori,” he panted, pressing his forehead against the lads. “You’ve made me very happy today.”

He watched at the boy blushed and smiled shyly at him in delight.

“I’m glad you’re happy, Mister Oakenshield,” he replied, lips swollen from their kiss. It was a sight Thorin found he liked very much.

“You best get going,” he said, stepping away the table. “Free period is just about over and you don’t want to be late for your next class.”

Ori nodded, hopping down from the table. With another shy smile, he rushed to the door, stopping just before he left.

“Mister Oakenshield, may I come visit you again tomorrow, during free period,” he asked hopefully.

Thorin smirked.

“Of course. My door is always open to you, Ori.”

The boy’s eyes lit up with delight.

“Thank you, sir! I will see you tomorrow!”

“Until tomorrow, Ori.”

And then he left, leaving Thorin alone in his classroom.

The older man let his tongue lightly trace his lips, chasing the taste of Ori that lingered there.

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what do you think? One of my more mature themed stories. I try to keep my stories suitable for all ages, but sometimes you just need something a little more risque. So I wrote this.
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, or both? Let me know! I love to hear them and I read them all! :)


	3. Dwalin/Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo frowned at the sight of himself in the mirror. Who could ever find such a body attractive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Dwalin! In which Bilbo is having some self-image issues, and Dwalin is there to comfort him. :) This isn't really touched on, but this story is set in a Modern AU. After all, hobbits equate chubbiness with attractiveness, and it's implied that dwarves have similar values. Enjoy!

Bilbo frowned at the sight of himself in the mirror, not at all liking what he saw. His shirt was thrown carelessly on the floor, leaving his torso naked to the winter air. Turning to the side, he poked and prodded the softness of his belly, hating the plumpness that was nestled there.

He was never a particularly fit sort of man. Even as a child he was on the chubby side, but never let it bother him. After all, his father had been on the chubby side, as was his grandfather. And he was nowhere near as round as his Uncle Bingo so his own pudginess was real of now concern. Now, though, it seemed a much great problem that it had in the years before.

Here is was, on the wrong side of forty, and all the signs of aging were becoming more and more prominent. His growing belly was just one of them.

So involved with his own superficial inspection of his body he completely missed the sound of the bedroom door opening and shutting. It was only when a pair of wide, strong arms wrapped around his waist that he became aware he was no longer alone.

“What a treat for me,” Dwalin whispered in his ear, placing a gentle kiss there. “Finding you like this.”

Bilbo huffed at his lover’s words, for the first time doubting their sincerity. How could he find him attractive when he looked like this, fat and doughy? He told him as much.

“I would thank you not to tell me such lies. I’m aware of how I look, and desirable is certainly not a word I would use to describe me.”

He felt Dwalin move away from his, but it was only when he glanced in the mirror did he see the true shock on his face.

“What do you mean by that,” he asked, honest confusion painting his words.

Again, Bilbo huffed and he extracted himself from the other man’s arms. Turning around, he made a show of clutching at his belly, letting the soft skin bunch in his hands.

“Look at this! How can you look at this and tell me I’m attractive?”

Dwalin frowned at him and his words.

“Because you are, Bilbo. You are the most beautiful thing in this world,” he answered, brows furrowed but tone earnest. The smaller man snorted in disbelief.

Dwalin, seeing that he was not being believed, reached forward and gently turned Bilbo so that he was facing the mirror, his own body spooning him from behind. Gently, he let his hands caress his lover’s body, paying special attention to the pudge on his stomach.

“Where you see imperfection, Bilbo, I see splendor. Your arms, gentle and soft, bring me a comfort only you can. The suppleness of your body is the perfect place for me to lay my head at night. I could wax poetry about the lusciousness of your bum, but I think I will save that for tonight,” he teased, placing a whiskery kiss against his lover’s smooth neck. Bilbo giggled at the sensation, leaning back into his embrace. The larger man met his gaze in the mirror, eyes soft with love.

“You are perfect the way you are, Bilbo Baggins, and you always will be.”

Bilbo felt his heart thud hard in his chest at Dwalin’s words, finally believing the truth in them. With new eyes he looked at his body, seeing the things his lover saw. Every dip and curve that he despised was bathed in a new light. It was a rare gift, being able to see himself through another’s view.

Turning around in his lover’s arms he wrapped his arms around his neck, standing on his tiptoes so that he could comfortably reach. He leaned up and placed a gentle kiss to the lips there.

“Thank you,” he whispered, before giving another kiss that Dwalin happily returned.

The older man continued to caress him through his kiss, his actions giving more proof to his words. Dwalin thought he was beautiful. For Bilbo, that was more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet! I've been studying for my ASL test tomorrow, so I didn't have the time to make this any longer. I hope you like it anyway. There will be more of this couple in the future, don't you worry. I pretty much ship Bilbo with all the dwarves. ;)
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, or both? Let me know. I read them all and love to hear them!


	4. Fili/Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili was his muse. Fili was forever thankful of that fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Fili/Kili love to help you get through the last two days of the week. It's almost the weekend, so be happy! :)

Night had fallen outside, blanketing the world in darkness and silence. Inside, however, what a different story. It was certainly quiet, but by no means dark. A fire glowed from its bed, bathing a room in a warm light and giving the occupants within enough to see by.

Fili sat before his bed, a piece of charcoal in one hand and a sketch book laid out on his lap. With deft, sure hands he filled the page with clean lines. Slowly an image began to form.

It was the image of young man, naked save for a blanket draped across his legs. Long, silky hair fell around his face and his arms were thrown above his head. His eyes were shut with sleep and his face was an image of serenity.

The image on his page was beautiful, but Fili believed it didn’t do justice to his true model. Looking up from his work, he smiled softly at the sight of Kili laid out across his bed. The younger man had long since fallen to night’s gentle lullaby, sleep taking him quickly in her arms. Fili, however, found himself restless.

An energy burned in his belly, keeping him from peaceful slumber. The sight of his lover, laid out so sweetly beside him, struck inspiration to his heart and he found himself helpless to resist. It was a common enough occurrence for the blond man. Kili’s very presence was a constant source of muse for the artist, filling book after book with his image. The pages that couldn’t fit within his books were instead pinned to his walls, filling the once boring wallpaper with various pieces of his true love. Kili reading, Kili dancing, Kili laughing. A few of the two of them, wrapped in a sensual embrace, but mostly just Kili. Why would he ever want to draw something else?

Before Kili, Fili had resigned himself to a life of solitude. A struggling artist in a world that no longer appreciated art, he was lonely and he was bitter. His work reflected that. His paintings were dark and grim, full of clashing colors that one critic poignantly called “such an eyesore that letting maggots feast on your eyes was preferable than having to look on this so called art for a moment longer”. That particular review inspired a set of drawings he named ‘Ode to the Experts’, a rather macabre take on his opinion of his critics. Needless to say, it only inspired harsher reviews.

Then Kili arrived, bursting into his life like the first true, hot day of summer after facing such a long and frigid winter. It had been at one of his art exhibitions, one that he himself readily admitted to the press was a complete waste of time. But his sponsor, god bless Bilbo Baggins’ heart, insisted on it. So he wheeled out his latest works, made sure his wine glass was constantly filled, and gave the public a look into his view on the world. None of them were impressed. Except one.

A young man with raven hair and chocolate eyes. He walked around his display’s with a constant look of awe and wonder. At first, Fili was certain he was there to cause trouble and poke fun. However, after he watched him stand in front of his poorer pieces with obvious delight, he began to wonder at his sanity. Naturally he approached him.

“Any thoughts on this,” he asked simply, cautiously. The man startled, turning to smile sheepishly at him.

“Oh, I’m no expert. But this one is very good,” he replied with such honesty and surety that Fili was taken aback. The stranger looked at the painting again, his eyes sparkling with delight.

“Look at the colors and the passion in each stroke,” he whispered, pointing to certain spots on the canvas. “It’s obvious the artist’s outlook on life is bleak, but there’s more to that. He’s in pain and scared. But there is also a lingering hope, a determination around the edges that says he will not give in without a fight. It makes me want to try harder in my own life, just to show him that there is still good left in this world.”

Fili smiled at the memory. Kili’s words had stuck him speechless that night. No one since Bilbo had ever seen any worth in his art, and even Bilbo had told him it was potential he had. Kili saw potential already reached. From that moment on all his work was done for his sake, that young man who saw what he truly wished the world to see.

The sound of rustling sheets brought him back to the present. Coming back into focus he saw his lover stretching lazily against the pillows, a sleepy smile aimed toward him.

“You’ll strain your eyes if you keep working in the dark. Who had ever heard of a blind artist,” Kili teased. Fili smiled back, gently closing his sketch book and crawling into bed with his lover.

“It’s hardly my fault you look so stunning in such low light,” he replied, placing a chaste kiss to his neck. Kili laughed breathlessly, pushing his body against his.

“Perhaps we should get rid of the fireplace and install from florescent lights? The lack of mood lighting will help you sleep.”

Fili laughed with him.

“I hate to say it, my love, but your plan has a flaw.”

“Oh? What flaw?”

“You forget that you are always beautiful, no matter the lighting. So I will always be encouraged to capture it.”

Kili rolled his eyes at his shameless flirting, but smiled nonetheless.

“You’re a ridiculous charmer,” he sighed fondly. Fili grinned down at him.

“Your charmer.”

The young man grinned proudly at that statement, pulling him into a fierce kiss. Fili happily followed.

Who was he to resist such brilliance?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? As much as I love this pairing, I have such a hard time writing it. There are literally three unfinished stories about these two that I wrote today but just couldn't make right. Maybe stories I'll try later on in this challenge. We'll see.
> 
> Have ideas for future pairings, stories, or both? Got requests? Let me know! I read them all and love to hear them. :)
> 
> Also, thank you to those who wished me luck on my test today. I think I did well. At least, I understood the majority of what my professor was signing, which I take as a good sign. See you tomorrow!


	5. Thorin/Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin hadn't seen Rivendell in nearly a century. He hadn't seen Bilbo either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Thilbo for you on this fine Friday. Enjoy! :)

It had been nearly a century since he last walked the halls of Rivendell. Like the elves she housed, it was a realm largely untouched by time. A part of Thorin’s mind that was still very much a dwarf in his prime thought a century was hardly enough time between visits and would have ben quite content dying without ever stepping foot here again. Unfortunately, his errand was of the utmost importance and could not be passed off to a trusted dignitary of Erebor or even one of his nephews. It must be him.

The black rider appearing at the Gate of Erebor had been an ill omen of dark times approaching. They had known the shadows were once again rising, with Orc attacks becoming a more common thing has the seasons passed. But when that hellish rider came asking for the whereabouts of Bilbo Baggins they knew the danger was far more real than they could imagine.

It had been many years since any of the Company had heard of their burglar. The letters they had sent went unanswered and with the way the world was turning, none could make the arduous journey to the Shire for a visit. In the end they had been forced to conclude that their dear hobbit has since passed from this world and into the next. After all, hobbits, even hobbits as feisty as their Master Baggins, were not blessed with the same long years that dwarves possessed.

It wasn’t a line of thought Thorin often took. His relationship with his burglar had ended on stiff terms all those years back. While the others of the Company, including his own nephews, had kept a correspondence with Bilbo until recently, he had never found the courage to do the same. Too great was his shame on how he treated the other man and any news he received was through another. And now it was too late. Bilbo Baggins was dead and he had now truly lost the one thing he loved most in this world, but it was a punishment he deserved.

The smell of burning pipe weed freed him from his mournful thoughts. The familiar scent of Longbottom Leaf had him looking around in confusion, only to stop in shock at the sight of a hobbit sitting on a bench. Not just any hobbit, though. Bilbo Baggins. Only, this was the Bilbo Baggins he knew from 77 years prior. He was young, untouched by the time that had ravaged Thorin and his fellow dwarves. How could that be?

“Bilbo,” he called out uncertainly, as if afraid the image before him was a trick of the light and would disappear in an instant. The hobbit remained solid, however, and even acknowledged him with a smile.

“I’m sorry, Master Dwarf, but I am not Bilbo Baggins,” he replied, pulling out his pipe so that he could address him properly. “Meriadoc Brandybuck, at your service.”

Thorin walked closer, studying the hobbit and seeing the differences between this man and his own burglar come to light. His hair was a shade lighter than Bilbo’s and fell in tighter curls, and his nose was a different shape. He blinked and suddenly the resemblance between the two hobbits was so stark that Thorin wondered how he ever mistook this Meriadoc for Bilbo.

“My apologies, Master Brandybuck, for the mistake,” he said, giving a small bow of his head. Meriadoc wove a dismissive hand at his words, an amused smirk on his face.

“It’s not trouble, Master Dwarf. I’ve been mistaken for one relation or another that I take no offense. Though I must say this is the first time anyone has mistook me for cousin Bilbo. That is certainly a laugh,” he chuckled, evidently most amused by the thought. He scooted across the bench and patted the empty space beside him, inviting Thorin to join him. The dwarf gratefully took the offer.

“You are kin to Bilbo,” he asked, settling down beside the young hobbit.

“Aye, through my mother’s side. She was a Took before marrying into the Brandybuck line. There is also a relation through my father’s side, but I won’t bore you with hobbit family trees.

Instead, may I ask how you now my cousin, Master Dwarf? Did you fight alongside him during his adventures?”

Thorin smiled sadly at the question, but nodded.

“Yes, though I believe it was more than that. I am Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain. I am the dwarf that hired Bilbo to be a burglar against a dragon,” he replied. Meriadoc’s eyes raised in surprise, his mouth dropping open slightly at the confession.

“You are Thorin Oakenshield,” he asked, as if he was unsure he heard correctly the first time. Thorin nodded again. The hobbit laughed in disbelief, taking a long inhale of his pipe and exhaling the smoke in an impressive ring.

“Bilbo would tell us stories of you, when we were all but fauntlings. The Great Dwarrow King of the East, who fought to reclaim his stole home. It was all very magnificent and wonderful,” he confessed with a smile. Thorin found himself smiling in return.

“He was an excellent story teller, that I remember. It was a skill that certainly was helpful when faced against Smaug.”

Meriadoc laughed, nodding in agreement.

“Our favorite was the story of the trolls and how Bilbo cleverly tricked them to save you time until dawn. I never fully believed that tale though, until my companions and I came across the very trolls frozen in stone a few weeks past. It was all very exciting.”

He hadn’t thought about the troll incident in many years, but now couldn’t help but laugh softly at it. Terrifying at the time, it certainly was a funny memory to visit now. Bilbo had always been cleverer than any of the dwarves, often saving their hides with his wit alone. He regretted never telling him that.

“I’m sorry for your loss. Bilbo’s death was felt keenly in Erebor as I’m sure it was back in the Shire,” he offered his condolences, though it hurt to admit such a thing aloud.

“Death,” Meriadoc asked, brows furrowed in confusion. “Bilbo isn’t dead, King Thorin. He is here, in Rivendell and very healthy, I assure you.”

Thorin’s gaze shot to the hobbits, unbelieving of what he just said. There was no lie in the young man’s eyes, however. Bilbo was alive and here.

“Take me to him.”

XxxxX

There were two hobbits in the room. One was in a deep, healing sleep on the bed, his dark hair falling around his face. The other was older, much, much older. His hair was white and thinning, and the skin on his face was lined and near translucent. His back was stooped and his hands gnarled. To Thorin, though, he was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

He carefully entered the room, coming to stand alongside his burglar. Bilbo didn’t seem at all surprised to see him or even truly acknowledge him. His gaze remained fixed on the young man in the bed.

“Your young cousin, Meriadoc, told me your nephew Frodo was ill but that Elrond has high hopes for his recovery,” Thorin softly spoke.

“It’s my fault that he’s here. That silly ring that I used to escape my horrible relatives has brought this evil on my poor boy. Oh, what a fool I was,” Bilbo replied, his voice aged and weary. Thorin knelt down beside him and gently grabbed his hands in his own, hoping to offer come comfort.

“You are not to blame, my dear hobbit. The evil in this world is the fault of no one save those who actively seek it out. You are not one of those people.”

The hobbit turned to face him, eyes sorrowful and old. So very old.

“I’m also to blame for your sickness, my king. I know that now. My finding that horrid ring was the reason for your corruption. Please, forgive me.”

Tears fell from Bilbo’s eyes at his confession and Thorin felt his heart break. He reached out and brushed them away.

“I’m the one who should be seeking your forgiveness, Bilbo. The ring may have made quick work of my fall into madness, but I was lost long before that. And I betrayed you, when all you wanted to do was save me.”

Bilbo pressed his cheek into Thorin’s hand with all his strength, tears still falling from his eyes. Thorin leaned forward and let his forehead rest against the hobbit’s. For a moment, they just sat there. No words were spoken, but the message between the two was nonetheless clear. Forgiveness and regret, on both sides.

“How I wish we had more time,” Thorin finally spoke. “All these years could have passed in peace, but now they are wasted.”

Bilbo smiled sadly at his words.

“Perhaps in the next life we will have another chance. Until then, let’s make use of the time we have now.”

Thorin smiled sadly and nodded. He sat beside Bilbo for the rest of the night clutching his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? I admit, though I love this story idea of Thorin and Bilbo being reunited after all these years I'm not too happy with this ending. Oh well, live and learn. Also, who else thinks Martin Freeman and Dominic Monaghan could pass as cousins? Especially when you compare them in their hobbit-y makeup and costumes.
> 
> Got any ideas for future stories, pairings, or both? I do accept requests and read them all. :)


	6. Kili/Nori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a carefully played game between them. Kili wasn't sure if he wanted to win or lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, some trouble making KiliXNori. I like the idea of these two playing a wicked game of romance with each other, hence the trouble making. This request also got me thinking of more KilixNori pieces, so that's something you can look forward to in the future. :) Enjoy!

This night had been one Kili had been looking forward to for a long time. After months of looks of longing and near obscene flirtation Nori had finally got the balls to ask him to dinner. It took him longer than he expected, giving the red head’s reputation. Than again, a brave man had difficulty looking past his family’s influential, and dangerous, name. As much as he was fond of Nori, he knew the other mans shortcomings. He was not a brave man. Asking the beloved nephew of his mob boss wasn’t something he was quite able to do without a little push.

In the end, Bofur had been their saving grace. A few casual looks of interest shot toward Kili from the pigtailed man himself had kick started Nori into actually doing something about his interest in the younger man.

Fili had asked him why he hadn’t been the one to ask Nori out first, as Kili had no problem doing so in the past with his other dalliances. The chocolate haired man had only smiled coyly and informed his brother that certain people needed to be caught with an enticing chase. Nori was one of them.

Kili, for all that he was a happy-go-lucky sort of man, was also incredibly cunning and knew how to get what he wanted. When it was Tauriel, the vixen of a woman that worked for Thranduil, the sappy, romantic persona had sealed the deal. With Legolas, whom he pursued at the encouragement of Tauriel after their amiable split, he needed to project a cocky and competitive air. The blond supermodel just couldn’t resist.

Nori, though, was different. His very nature was one of mischief and thievery. His whole life revolved around obtaining things that weren’t his to have. Why else would Thorin hire him? So when Kili’s interest in the man was piqued it had to be dealt with appropriately. Nori didn’t want a prize that was easily won, be it an object or a person’s affection. That was fine. It made Kili want to play the game even more.

And play he did. Much to his delight, Nori followed along.

It was a game of tag and chase, though it was a real question as to who was in charge of the whole thing. Kili liked to believe he was the leader in their game, but Nori played so well that sometimes the younger man would wonder who had made the rules. Him or Nori? Not that it really mattered. As long as he got what he wanted in the end, Nori could take the lead as long as he wanted. He just wouldn’t make it easy for him. Nothing good ever came of an easy win.

Now he waited, alone in his apartment. He told Nori to pick him up at 6:30 and his watch told him it was now closer to 7. He couldn’t help smirking to himself. It was an obvious play, and quite frankly disappointing on Nori’s part. He would have thought better of the thief.

The buzzer on his door rang, signaling that someone had arrived. He ignored it. It rang again. He continued to ignore it. Then his phone went off, a single chime that indicated a text message. Fishing it out of his pocket, he read the message sent to him.

**_I’m here. Are we still on for tonight? –Nori_ **

The ball was in Kili’s court. Quickly, but also with the utmost care, he typed back his reply.

**_Sorry, I fell asleep. Not even dressed yet_.**

He got a reply in less than a thirty seconds.

**_That’s fine. We can stay in, unclothed if you want. -Nori_ **

It was a bold move. Kili felt his smirk widen into an eager smile. He sent his response.

**_The door is open_**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) Let me know what you think!
> 
> Have any ideas of future stories, pairings, or both? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	7. Fili/Sigrid Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tourney was to be held for the right to the Lady Sigrid's hand in marriage. Fili was determined that honor would fall to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Figrid February for you all! :) This will be a multi-chapter story, so stay tuned for tomorrow. Enjoy.

**From the Throne of Dale and Her Glorious Kingdom**

**Let it be known that Princess Sigird, Lady of Dale, has reached marriageable age.**

**As per tradition the tradition of our most honored ancestors, the right to the Lady’s hand will be awarded to only to the most worth and thus a tourney in her honor shall be held on the first day of summer. All races are welcome and need not be a noble birth. The Kingdom of Dale recognizes the honor in the lowborn as well as the high. Winner shall be recognized at the betrothed of the Fair Lady and welcomed into the house of Bard Bowman, King of Dale and Dragonslayer.**

**Signed, King Bard and the Princess Sigrid**

The announcement had sent a wild thrill that was felt as far out as Gondor in the south. Within a fortnight answers were being delivered to Dale from all reaches and races, men hoping to win the grand prize of the Lady’s hand. Not all were so thrilled. Fili Steelguard, as he was now called in recognition to his valiant fighting in the Battle of Five Armies, was one of those people.

“It’s as if she is a cattle being auctioned to the highest bidder and not a woman in her own right,” he growled to his brother after sharing the news with him. Kili nodded, rereading the words written on the scroll that had been delivered to Erebor that day.

“Humans are a funny race and arranged marriages such as this are so strange. I would think, though, that Bard would be against this,” he replied, looking for some loophole but finding none.

Fili shrugged.

“He is, as is Sigird. But she writes to me that their hands are tied and the council will not budge on the matter. In a month’s time she will have a husband not of her own choosing and must accept that.”

It made the dwarf ill. He would hate anyone to be forced into a marriage they did not want, but for it to be Sigrid hit him all the harder. It wasn’t a secret that he had a fondness for the human woman, a fondness that was easily returned. They had become fast friends in Laketown, when she was just a bargeman’s daughter and he a prince in exile. That friendship only flourished as they rebuilt their kingdoms alongside their respective kings. However, it had taken a deeper turn in these past few months. Letters sent between them were filled with little words of endearment and small gifts of affection, a lock of hair or an embroidered handkerchief. Nothing that spoke of a definite courtship, but the interest was most certainly there. And now he might lose her before he truly ever had her. Worse yet, he might lose her to a man from some far off kingdom, perhaps Rohan or even Harad, and would never see her again.

The thought was too great to bare and so his decision was made.

“I will enter the tourney and I shall win.”

XxxxX

The first day of summer arrived and brought with it men of all character and culture. Even during his time as a hired guard for merchant caravans, Fili had never seen such diversity. There were Riders of Rohan that came with spears as tall as they were and men of Gondor, stern faced and fierce. He recognized a few dwarrow houses from Ered Luin and Kili later told him that a few elves from not only Mirkwood, but Lothlorien and Rivendell, had arrived as well. They did not know if the latter were there to compete or simply observe.

The dwarf prince carefully watched the strangers, picking out those that would be a threat in the ring and those that would not. He himself had been keeping in top form, utilizing those in the Company to hone his already fine skills. Never had he been more prepared than he was now.

“Don’t get cocky,” Thorin warned, as they walked through the competing grounds together. All around them men readied themselves for the events ahead. “You are a fine warrior, but so are many here. Remember all that we taught you, how felling a dwarf is different from felling a man or an elf. It is the smarter warrior who wins, not the stronger.”

Fili nodded, taking his uncle’s words seriously. He was not the same naïve dwarf he had been during their Journey, now recognizing that talent only went so far in battle. It was patience and carefully refined skill that won out in the end, with luck playing a fair role as well. Just because a warrior won one battle did not mean he would win the next or any after. It was a lesson that he had learned quite painfully.

“Your first match is against a dwarf from Ered Luin. Gith, son of Glim,” Kili informed him, showing him the hastily copied roster he had made of the match ups for the day. Fili studied it, taking note of who had been placed in his group. Twenty men in total, twelve humans and eight dwarrows. He did not recognize any of their names.

“You are the only one of noble birth in the group,” Kili answered his silent question. “Gith, son of Glim, is a miner. Bofur is familiar with him and says he has a mighty strength in his arms, but lacks finesse. You can see his swings come from a mile away and dodge quite easily. You should have no trouble defeating him.”

“What can you tell me of the others? The men in particular,” Fili asked. He had fought against dwarves his entire life and was not too concerned about them. Men, however, were different.

“Don’t worry about that now,” Thorin interrupted. “You will only find yourself distracted if you think of the future. Focus on this match in front of you and the rest will come.”

The prince reluctantly nodded, forcing his mind to think only of Gith, son of Glim, and the match ahead. He became so focused on that alone that he did not see his uncle and brother forge on ahead of him nor the armored figure walking in his direction until it was too late and they collided in a great clash of metal. Luckily, neither of them fell to the dirt.

“My apologies, sir. I was distracted,” he quickly amended, checking his armor for any damage done.

“Your apology is graciously accepted, Fili Steelguard. No damage was done so I will not hold any grudge,” the stranger replied, voice muffled behind the visored helm. Fili looked at the stranger with shock, surprised he knew him so quickly.

“You have me at a disadvantage, sir. You know my name though I do not know yours. Have we met before,” he asked. Carefully he studied the other man. It was obvious he was human, his height too tall for a dwarf and his body to broad for an elf. His armor as well was of human make, sturdy and well made but lacking the complex design of his own. He saw no sigil upon his breast or shield.

“We have, prince, though I do not begrudge you for not knowing my name. I look quite different from when we last met,” the stranger replied, amusement lacing their words. Fili was only more confused.

“Perhaps you can rouse my memory and remove your helm? Dwarves never forget a face and I would like to see yours.”

The man laughed, a pleasing enough sound for all that it was trapped behind a grate of metal.

“I’m afraid you must wait, prince. I wish to win this tournament and the hand of Lady Sigrid anonymously. When I am the victor then you shall have my name.”

The dwarf frowned at the declaration.

“So certain you are of winning?”

“I am,” the stranger replied, surety clear in his voice. “More the fact that I have the Princess’s favor in this tourney. Such a thing will no doubt go far.”

The confession was not something Fili expected. He had no idea Sigird favored any of those competing. He himself had only been met with a cold regard when he told the woman that he would enter his name in the tournament roster. Yet this stranger claimed they had her approval?

He was about to demand the stranger give him his name, but was stopped when the sound of large bell tolled through the grounds. It was time for his match.

“Luck be with you, Steelguard. I hope we may meet each other on the field before the end,” the stranger spoke, bowing shortly to him before walking off. Fili took a moment to watch his retreat, noting that his stride was vaguely familiar to him. The bell rang again and he forced the stranger from his mind as he approached the ring. He could think of the matter later, when he won.

He unsheathed his swords and stepped into the field of play, his mind focused on the prize ahead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 will be here tomorrow.
> 
> Have any ideas of future stories, pairings, or both? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading! :)


	8. Fili/Sigrid Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The motives of the mysterious knight are revealed, and Fili feels shame for his actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of yesterday's story and the finish. Enjoy!

The tourney advanced much as Fili imagined it would. Inexperienced competitors were trounced by those of skill and by the week’s end only thirteen remained. An elf from Mirkwood, five men of Rohan, five of Gondor, himself, the lone dwarf, and the mysterious knight who claimed to have Sigrid’s favor. Not that the Lady ever showed herself to the competitors. During each match she remained seated behind a curtain of green fabric, her tall and proud silhouette the only thing anyone could see. All her words were spoken through her father or brother, though none of it was ever high praise.

“Another one of Dale’s ancient traditions,” Bain had confided in him after watching Fili win his last match. “Apparently back then everyone thought a woman’s value was in being seen and not heard. What arrogant sods!”

Fili couldn’t help agreeing with the young human. Still, knowing the tradition of her people did nothing to ease the sting of Sigrid’s silence to him. He had no word from her since her last visit to the mountain, where he informed her of his entering in her tourney. It hadn’t ended well between them or so the princess’s cold response would have him believe.

He put his hurt aside for the moment. When he won this tourney, and he was certain that he would at this point, there would be time to discuss all he needed with the woman. Instead he focused on the field before him. It was the last match of the day and one he was keen to observe.

The competitors were a Knight of Gondor, a young man in his prime with an aptitude for sword play, and the mysterious knight he had met before. In the past week he had taken a great interest in the latter, watching his bouts in the ring as often as possible and having his brother or one of the Company report to him when he could not. What he saw surprised him.

The man had obviously not been trained as a soldier with any kingdom, evident enough in his style and the fact that he bore no sigil of any kind. Nonetheless, he was skilled. He seemed to have a knowledge in fighting from all the races, utilizing dwarrow attacks with elvish defense, all the while maintaining a strictly human flair. He was nowhere near the strongest of those remaining, in fact Fili would wager in terms of physical strength he was on the weaker end. However, he made up for this in his strategy, showcasing a keen mind in all his fights. Few lasted long against him.

Now he watched at the two competitors circled each other, testing their rival carefully. The Gondorian made the first move, swing his blade up and down at the mysterious knight. It was a move that was easily blocked and retaliated against with a countermove. Slowly the two humans got a feel for each other.

Fili walked toward the front of the ring, where Bard sat along with Sigrid and Bain.

“Welcome, Steelguard. Come to spy on the competition,” Bard asked with a grim smirk, gesturing to the two fighting men.

The dwarf prince bowed in return, paying proper respects before replying.

“I have no interest in the man of Gondor. He will lose this match in less than three minutes,” he confidently shared.

Bard raised a brow at this, a look of interest on his face.

“You think? I would say the other knight is at a disadvantage. He is far weaker than the Gondorian.”

“I have found that physical power means little when it comes to humans in battle. It helps, certainly, but your kind rely more on agility and proper skill than brute force. The man from Gondor is skilled but focuses too much on his greater strength. His competitor will exploit this, as he has done with other rivals this past week. He will be the victor.”

Bard hummed in interest, focusing back on the fight at hand. Bain spoke next.

“You seem to have some fondness for this unknown knight.”

“Not as fond as your sister,” Fili couldn’t help but growl, regretting the words the moment he spoke them. The young man looked confused and asked him to elaborate. The blond dwarf reluctantly explained his encounter with the man and how he claimed to have Sigrid’s favor. Understanding dawned on Bain’s face.

“Ah, yes. I remember Sigrid mentioning such a thing. Though you shouldn’t feel threatened by such a thing,” he explained. Fili opened his mouth to reassure Bain that he, in fact, did not feel threatened by the man, but the young man began speaking again.

“This knight has promised Sigrid that if he was the win this tourney he would not force her to marry him. He simply wants the recognition of Dale and her allies. As my sister was against this whole event from the beginning it’s of no surprise that she would cheer for the one competitor offering her her freedom.”

That hadn’t been what Fili had expected to hear. In this past week he had convinced himself that some secret love affair was going on between the Lady of Dale and this no name knight, that he himself was the victim in all this as the woman had not denied his budding affections and seemed to return them. He felt a hot wash of shame run through him as he realized the dishonor he had done to the princess in his assumptions. She was the real victim in all this and his pride kept him from seeing it as such.

A wild cheer went through the crowd. Fili looked up to see the Gondorian yield against the sword of the mysterious knight, much to the delight of the spectators. The dwarf prince found himself clapping along, watching the victor with a new appreciation.

“Excuse me.” He bowed to the two men before making his way to the ring just as the mysterious knight was exiting.

“You fought well,” he praised, honest in his words. The knight bowed his head in acknowledgement.

“Thank you, Your Royal Highness.”

Fili hesitated, before continuing.

“Prince Bain told him of your intentions should you win this tourney. They are noble and I am ashamed I did not think of to do such a thing myself. The Princess Sigrid is fortunate to have such a champion fighting for her.”

The dwarf offered him his arm in a sign of comradery, which the man took without hesitation.

“The Princess has spoken fondly of you, sir. I am certain if you were to be named victor here she would not be upset,” he replied. Fili felt his face flush with new shame, remembering how coldly Sigrid had spoken to him last.

“I fear you are mistaken in that respect. I made a total ass of myself the last I met with the princess.”

The knight chucked amusedly, patting his solidly on his shoulder.

“What man hasn't done such in front of the woman he loves? And yes, I know you love her. Have no fear, Fili Steelguard. The Lady of Dale would not let your foolishness come between your friendship.”

“I can only hope you are right. You are right, I find myself in love with her and would hate things to end badly between us because of my pride. But I have kept you too long, you are most certainly tired and in need of rest. I wish you luck in your bouts tomorrow, even if we face against each other on the field. It would be an honor to be matched against you.”

“Likewise, your highness. Until tomorrow.”

With that they parted ways.

XxxX

The final day of the tourney dawned on sunny and bright on the kingdom of Dale. The city was awash with color as everyone came out to see the final matches that were to be held. Fili was sure even Erebor was empty save for only the essential guard to bare witness to the day’s events. His uncle, brother, and mother certainly weren’t within the Mountain, instead seated alongside Bard and his family to cheer him on.

The day’s bouts were set up in a single-knock out style, with the victor in each match advancing to the next round until there were only two left. Fili was one of the first to fight, against a staggeringly tall Rohirrim who wielding an equally impressive spear. His helm was decorated with a horse tail, marking him as not only a warrior of Rohan, but one of high rank as well. The dwarf prince was no intimidated however and with true Durin stubbornness met him head on. The Rohirrim lasted only a few minutes against him before Fili forced his yield.

And so the day went on until midafternoon finally arrived and only two remained.

Himself and the mysterious knight.

“I must admit, I am glad we meet here in the end,” he confessed as they circled each other in the ring.

“Yes, it certainly seems fitting. Though I must warn you, despite your affections for the Lady Sigrid I will show no mercy. I mean to be crowned champion,” the knight replied, sword held at the ready. Fili grinned.

“I expect no less.”

The dwarf struck quickly, forgoing any attempt to learn how his opponent fought. He had been watching him all week and knew how he moved. The knight quickly followed his lead, easily parrying his attacks and pushing back with his own. Fili hadn’t been the only one watching and learning.

The two exchanged blow after blow, neither tiring or showing any sign of giving ground. The cheers of the crowd were drowned out by the sounds of their steel clashing together, Fili’s duel blades against the knight’s long sword.

“I will accept your surrender at any time. There is no shame is bowing out,” the dwarf goaded, dodging a particularly swift swing. The knight laughed at his words, obviously not at all offended his remarks.

“As you say, prince, there is no shame in a loss. By your leave.”

The two continued their dangerous dance, swords flashing in the light. Fili had no idea how much time has passed, but it was enough that he felt himself tiring. Suddenly, the mysterious knight spun about in a move Fili recognized as one often employed by Tauriel, Thranduil’s Captain of the Guard, and his blades were knocked from his hands. He felt the cold bite of steel against his throat.

“Yield,” the knight demanded. The prince lifted his hands in defeat.

“I yield.”

The crowd went wild, amazed at the display they had just witnessed. The knight let his sword drop and took a step away from Fili, turning to face Bard who now stood and clapped along with his people.

“A well fought match. Well done, good knight,” he praised. The knight bowed in recognition.

Bard turned to the crowd.

“I present to you our champion. Are there any here that dispute it?”

The people gathered cheered loudly, obviously impressed with the knight’s talent and approved of his victory. The King of Dale faced the knight once more, a mysterious smile on his face.

“I ask that you remove your helm, good knight. Let all see the one worthy of the Lady Sigrid’s hand.”

Fili watched with interest as the knight did just that, sheathing his sword and unbuckling his helmet. In one practiced movement he removed it from his person and revealed his face to the world.

Long blonde hair tumbled down, framing a distinctly feminine and familiar face.

“Sigrid?!”

Fili’s shock was echoed in those around him. The princess, face sweaty from their match, smiled at him and gave him a small bow.

“Fili, always a pleasure.”

The dwarf was stunned, looking from where Sigrid stood to where her family smugly sat.

“But, it can’t be you. All this week you have been seated beside your father.”

The woman laughed, running a hand through her hair.

“A simple trick of shadows, Fili. Look there.”

The dwarf looked to where she pointed, the spot where the curtain of green cloth had been set up beside Bard’s throne. Only now it had been pulled aside, revealing little Tilda dressed in one of her sister’s dressed and seated atop a pile of pillows to disguise her height.

“People of Dale, I present to you the only person deemed worthy by our traditions of the Princess Sigrid’s hand. The princess herself,” Bard explained, putting a swift halt to any protests that might rise.

Fili couldn’t help but laugh as the sheer genius of this elaborate plan truly made itself known to him. No rules had been broken, as the tourney itself was open to any and all competitors, which meant that Sigrid had won her freedom fairly. None could dispute that fact.

He watched the woman embrace her sister, placing a kiss on her cheek as they celebrated their victory, her armor gleaming in the sunlight. He had never saw a more beautiful sight and knew he was falling in love even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm sick and have been sleeping all day. I'll be honest, it's a miracle I finished this at all. But I said I would write every day for a year, so here I am. Please excuse the roughness.
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, or both? I take requests and make sure to read them all. Thank you for reading and I'll see you tomorrow!


	9. Bofur/Nori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo was the happiest omega alive. Naturally, he wanted others to feel as happy as he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, a NoriXBofur story set in an A/B/O AU and Bilbo tries to set the two up. It's by far a more mild version of an A/B/O story, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. :)

Bilbo was the happiest hobbit alive. Why shouldn’t he be? He was an Omega in love with the greatest Alpha and was loved in return. Thorin doted upon him, showering him with praise and affection that had the hobbit constantly walking amongst the clouds. The dwarf king was strong, handsome, kind, and honorable, all traits befitting not only a ruler but an Alpha Prime. And he had chosen Bilbo, a hobbit of the Shire, as his true mate. He has all he could ever wish for.

Now, Bilbo was a generous creature. He loved seeing to the needs of others, a trait Thorin said was highly valued in the Consort of Erebor, and often wen the extra mile to see to the happiness of others. So it was only natural that he wished others to experience the same love he had with Thorin. Thus he had his heart set on matchmaking.

He broached the topic with Thorin first.

“Don’t you think Bofur and Nori would make a fine couple,” he casually asked one evening, curled up in his husband’s lap. It was how they spent most of their nights before sleep, taking comfort in the close presence of each other. It was a hobbit tradition, one Bilbo firmly insisted on. Most, if not all, families in the Shire spent the hours before bed in close proximity with each other, with children cuddling with their parents and reacquainting themselves with each others scent. Like most things, Thorin readily agreed to his hobbit’s wished, only wanting good things for his mate. He kept quiet on the fact that he also enjoyed these moments together, and looked forward to the day they had children of their own to share it with.

“Both are Betas of good stock, capable of siring or bearing children of a similar disposition and perhaps even superior qualities. It would be a good pairing,” he answered with a shrug. He hadn’t ever really given the idea any though. Unlike his sister, a Beta notorious for sticking her nose into other people’s affairs, Thorin took no pleasure in speculating on his friend’s private business. If they wished to share such things with him then they were more than welcome to. If not, he would leave it alone. Bilbo, it seemed, took after his sister in this regard.

“I mean more than physical compatibility! Don’t you think personality wise they suit each other well? Both have a cheery way about them, though Nori is definitely more mischievous in his behavior. They are also incredibly loyal to their family and friends and spend much time together in each other’s presence. I find it surprising nothing more than friendship has flourished between them yet.”

Bilbo’s tone held a note of determination and a familiar gleam shined in his eyes. Thorin recognized this look as the one his mate got when he was about to particularly cunning.

“Bilbo,” he cautioned, his own tone taking on his natural Alpha qualities. Not enough to force his Omega to sumbit, but certainly enough to let him know he didn’t approve of what he was about to do. “Matter like this are best left to those involved, in this case Nori and Bofur. Your interference, however well intentioned, will not be welcomed.”

The hobbit waved a dismissive hand at his husband, ignoring his concerns.

“Nonesense, my dear. They are perfect for each other and will be thanking me by the month’s end. Just wait!”

Thorin felt a headache forming between his eyes. There was no stopping his hobbit now.

XxxxX

Bilbo’s first move was to get Nori and Bofur in the same room together. Not a difficult task, as the two often shared their days together when they had time away from their duties. Still, it didn’t hurt to tempt them with a lunch cooked by his hand. The Company was well aware of their Burglar’s skill in the kitchen and they were never ones to turn down a free meal.

“Welcome, welcome,” he happily greeted, herding the two dwarves into the private dining room of the Royal Family. “You two are the first to arrive, but please help yourself.”

It was a calculated move on his part. He had invited the whole Company to lunch, to ward off suspicion, but told Nori and Bofur it would begin at noon. The rest were informed lunch would be a half hour later.

“Quite a spread you got going, Bilbo,” Bofur whistled, taking in all the food laid out. It was extravagant, even for their hobbit. There were no less than five main dishes, as well as various side ones consisting of fruits, nuts, roasted vegetables, and even different chocolates. It was a feast worthy of visiting dignitaries, not a dozen mismatched dwarves.

“Well, I felt the need to spoil my friends. I don’t take it you are complaining,” Bilbo explained with a wink. Nori laughed, agreeing wholeheartedly.

“I will never protest a bit of pampering, little burglar.” The red haired dwarf set himself down and began piling up his plate. Bofur made to sit next to him, but was stopped by Bilbo’s shout.

“NO!”

The two dwarves looked up in alarm, Nori with his fork hovering in the air, mid-shovel, and Bofur hovering above a chair. Both of their eyes are wide.

“Bofur, you sit here,” Bilbo explained simply and pointing to the seat opposite of Nori’s, as if he hadn’t just shouted loud enough to bring down the roof. “Just another silly hobbit tradition. Do indulge me.” He smiled to sweetly at the former miner that Bofur couldn’t protest, and instead sat where the hobbit pointed.

“There. Isn’t this nice?”

The dwarves nodded, still a bit uncertain at the turn of things, but quickly distracted by the food.

Bilbo watched them carefully, eyes intents on all the food they each took. The meal set up wasn’t just whatever he happened to have sitting in his pantry. No, each dish had a purpose.

“Nori, try the oysters. They’re from the coast and are said to be especially delightful,” he insisted, pushing the plate toward the thief. The dwarf shrugged, plucking one from the dish and slurping it down. Bilbo smiled at the small victory.

“You know,” he casually began, as if the thought had just occurred to him. “Many people believe oysters are an aphrodisiac.”

“An aphro-what,” Bofur asked, chuckling at the funny word. Bilbo smiled patiently.

“Aphrodisiac. It’s a type of food that is said to…entice the consumer into a more romantic state of mind, to put it delicately. It is said that if you eat enough of them not only will your own scent increase tenfold, making you irresistible, but you will go into a mild form of heat or rut, depending on your status. Why do you think hobbits are so fond of food?”

The dwarves seemed interested, carefully pondering his words.

“Well, come on then, Bof! Give us a whiff,” Nori laughed, standing on his chair and baring his neck. Bofur laughed along, giving an exaggerated sniff of his large nose.

“Sorry, Nori. You still smell like the backend of a mule to me!”

This had the two dwarves laughing uproarisly, much to Bilbo’s displeasure, before turning back to their plates. Each had unknowingly consumed an aphrodisiac of some kind, as was Bilbo’s intent, but neither seemed effected. His first plan was unsuccessful.

He was not deterred, however. His next plan came into play the following week.

“What a wonderful day for Market,” he happily exclaimed, pulling Bofur through streets of Dale’s bustling shopping district. The miner had more than enough strength to resist the hobbit if he wanted to, but let his friend manhandle him through the streets. It was quite amusing on his part.

“Indeed. No finer day than this,” he agreed with a smile.

Bilbo had approached him earlier that morning, convinced that it had been far too long since they had spent time together, just the two of them.

“I would hate to think I’m neglecting my friends,” the hobbit confessed, looking so sad with his big blue eyes that Bofur had quickly agreed to the shopping trip. He had no plans lined up the day and it would be good to get some fresh air with his friend. What was the harm?

“Bofur, look! Aren’t these fabrics just gorgeous,” he gushed, gently pulling a roll of red silk out to closely examine it. The dwarf made an approve noise. It was certainly a fine fabric.

“Such a cloth would make a fetching gift to someone special. Red, after all, is the color of passion,” Bilbo explained. Bofur listened to him with amusement.

“If you’re dropping hints for me to let Thorin know you would like something made of this, you may have chosen the wrong dwarf. Dori would be more suited to the like,” he informed with a grin. Bilbo blushed, the thought of Thorin having a waist coat of such fabric made for him gently exciting him.

“N-no, of course not. I was just thinking for you. Perhaps there is someone you have had your eyes on, but you haven’t found the right gift for courtship yet?”

That had certainly confused the pigtailed man. He shook his head.

“No, no one like that.”

It took all of Bilbo’s skills to hide his disappointment. He carefully replaced the silk and continued through the stalls. When they reached the center square he saw his chance.

“Look! There is Thorin, with Dwalin and Nori,” he exclaimed, pointing to where the three dwarves stood. Some sort of perfume vendor by the looks of it.

“Hello, dearest,” he greeted, happily presenting his neck to Thorin who was equally happy to gently bite at the offer. Bilbo felt himself shudder at the contact.

“I did not expect to see you here,” the king confessed, soothing his bite with a lap of his tongue.

Bilbo’s eyes twinkled innocently, which Thorin knew meant quite the opposite.

“I was just out for a shopping trip with Bofur. We were just as surprised to see you all here as well,” he explained, pointing to his companion. Bofur gave the king a cheery wave.

“I’m sure you were.”

Bilbo winked slyly at Thorin, who le the matter rest. The Consort turned to the others.

“What on earth are you all doing in a perfume stand?”

Nori had a frown on his face, and jerked his head at Dwalin, who was comparing two bottles.

“This giant oaf wants to get Ori a new perfume. Something… _alluring_ ,” the thief growled, not at all pleased by the Alpha’s interest in his Omega brother. As always, the Beta was conveniently ignoring the fact Dwalin and Ori had been bonded for over three years now and more than happy with the situation. Old habits die hard.

“Perfume is a wonderful gift. Do you have one you’re particularly fond of, Nori,” he asked. He felt Thorin pinch his side softly in warning, but ignored it.

The thief shrugged.

“Not really. I’ve always liked the scent of whisky, but I can get that cheap in a pub.”

Bofur laughed, clapping his friend heartily on the back.

“Now that’s a good idea! For your next birthday I’ll get you a fine whisky and put it in one of these silly bottles.”

Nori grinned at the idea.

“One with a little pump so I can spray it on my tongue when I need something to help ignore Dori’s whining!”

That set all the dwarves laughing. Not the effect Bilbo had intended. He tried not to pout to obviously. Thorin was not fooled.

“Leave them be, ghivashel,” he whispered into his ear, nuzzling him affectionately. “You can’t force these sort of things.”

Bilbo stubbornly ignored him.

“Next time for sure!”

His next chance came only three days later. A great feast was being held in honor of Dain, who had come from the Iron Hills with a delegation of nobles. Among them was a pretty dwarrowdam, with dark brown curls and the fine scent of a Beta in her prime. Bilbo saw his next plan forming. Jealousy.

“Who is that woman over there,” he asked, gesturing to the dwarrowdam in question. Thorin, Nori, and Bofur looked to where he pointed.

“That is the Lady Bethel, a noblewoman of the house El,” Thorin explained. Bilbo hummed in feigned interest.

“And is there a Lord attached to this Lady?”

He watched his mate’s eyes narrow slightly, already knowing Bilbo’s plan. Reluctantly he answered.

“No.”

Bilbo smiled with delight.

“She is certainly a pretty thing and from a good family. Bofur! You should ask her for a dance.”

The miner looked at him funnily.

“Why? She seems content talking with her group.”

Bilbo huffed and rolled his eyes. Why must he be so difficult?

“You are unattached and she is unattached. You told me there is no one of interest for you here in the mountain, but perhaps you have been looking in the wrong mountain.”

Bofur didn’t seem to follow his logic and was obviously reluctant to do as asked. Nori grinned mischievously at him.

“Go on then, Bofur. Sweep the lady off your feet. Or are you afraid she’ll say no,” he challenged. Bofur glared at him, though the effect was ruined by the slight smile on his lips.

“Ten gold coins I can get her to allow me to kiss her hand by the end of our dance,” he bet, holding out his hand. Nori took it without hesitation.

“Deal!”

With that, Bofur knocked back the rest of his ale and marched to where the Lady Bethel stood. The ground watched as he gave her a charmingly bow and smile, offering his hand. The dwarrowdam took it and the two were off twirling in time with the music. Bilbo smiled at the sight, eyeing Nori from the corner of his eye.

“How wonderful would it be if Bofur found his mate in the Lady Bethel? Such a romantic story it would make,” he exclaimed. He knew he was laying it on thick, but he need Nori to see what he could be missing. “They would have the most beautiful children. With his eyes and her wonderful curls!”

Thorin sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose to dispel the pain forming there. Bilbo, whom he loved with all his heart and would do anything for, was such a pain to deal with at times.

“I’m sure they would,” Nori replied, watching the two dwarves dance away. “If Bofur wanted children. But he doesn’t, so I don’t think we’ll ever see such a thing.”

That a certainly shocked Bilbo.

“Wait, what do you mean he doesn’t? Bofur adores children.”

The red head nodded, not disagreeing with that statement.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean he wants some of his own. He is more than happy to play the doting uncle with the funny hat.”

Bilbo frowned, eyes turning to watch his miner friend. Bofur had never told him he never wanted children. What else hadn’t he told Bilbo?

“It’s not an unusual thing,” Thorin added. “Many dwarves have no desire for children, though they are treasured amongst our people. Some don’t even feel the desire to settle down with a mate, preferring to devote their lives to their chosen craft.”

That had also been something Bilbo hadn’t known. For hobbits, children were the greatest gift a bonded couple could have and were wanted by everyone. To hear that some people had no desire for sure things, even more, no desire for any sort of familial companionship outside of siblings and parents, was shocking. Perhaps Thorin was right. Maybe his interference with Bofur and Nori was unwanted, as Bofur himself had no desire for a mate.

The dwarf in question arrived back, a smug smile on his face.

“Pay up! She let me kiss her,” he cheered. Nori shook his head.

“None of us saw you kiss her hand. Doesn’t count!”

“Well, come on then. Pick another one! I’ll charm her as well and win those coins.”

The two dwarves laughed and wandered off together, leaving Bilbo and Thorin alone.

“Alright,” Bilbo conceded. “I won’t play matchmaker with them. It’s obvious that neither want such a thing with the other.”

Thorin smiled softly at his mate, kissing his head in reassurance.

“You can always help Dori and Balin. Those two have been skirting each other for years.”

That certainly perked up the hobbit’s spirits.

“I guess I can!”

His mind at once began forming a plan.

Later that evening, when the feast had long since ended and the dwarves and lone hobbit of Erebor were safely in bed, Bofur lay curled against Nori, his naked chest pressed against the other’s back.

“Do you think we should go public,” he wondered, hands softly running through Nori’s red hair. “I feel a bit guilty for letting Bilbo try and fail to set us up together.”

The thief chuckled.

“Serves him right for sticking his nose in other people’s business. But, I understand what you’re saying. How about next week? That will give him enough time to get over his disappointment and then we’ll give him a real surprise.”

Bofur smiled, pulling his mate close. He gently inhaled his scent, letting it fill him up until he was sure he would float away.

“Next week then. In the meantime, do you perhaps have any of those aphrodisiacs laying about?”

The miner didn’t have to see his mate to know he was smiling mischievously. The night ended very well for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? This was certainly one of the longer stories I've written. It didn't feel right to split it up, though. I'm also feeling much better today, thank you for the well wishes. I was a little spacey in my ASL class today, but at least I made it there! I just didn't retain much of today's lesson. :)
> 
> Have any idea for futures stories, pairings, or both? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading.


	10. Ori/Dwalin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori would never grow tried of this sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little Gender-bent OrixDwalin, by request. I wish I could have wrote more, but today was super busy. Homework, puppy training classes, and vet appointments. I wrote this half asleep with my dog curled at my side. Friday can't come soon enough! Enjoy. :)

It was a sight Ori would never get tired of watching. Her great bear of a husband, tattooed and fierce, seated at a table much too small for him with an equally tiny tea cup balanced in his hand and a tiara perched on his head.

“More tea, Princess Gumdrop,” their daughter asked, holding her plastic teapot aloft.

“Oh yes, please, your majesty,” Dwalin replied, his voice taking on a falsetto tone as befitting his character.

No one would expect it of Dwalin, the former military man turned equally terrifying businessman, but fatherhood was a good look on him. With her own hectic schedule at the university, Dwalin had taken to parenthood like a fish to water. The moment their daughter had been placed into his arms it was like seeing a whole other person. The man was incredibly gentle, cradling her tiny body protectively in his meaty hands. His voice dropped from a booming sound to something gentle and low, like waves lapping at a shore line. As time went on, he only got better.

There was no shame as he wore a bright pink boba wrap across his suited body with his little girl tucked safely inside as he conversed with clients, a fluffy elephant in one hand and a pen in the other. When their daughter was older, and her hair longer, he quickly mastered the art of hair management. No one could do a better French braid than Dwalin, who always had a packet of colorful hair ties and matching bows at hand if needed.

Not to say he was a pushover. Just because Dwalin was a gentle giant with his little girl didn’t mean he was that way with others. One particularly obnoxious stranger found this out the hard way, after loudly questioning Dwalin’s sexuality after seeing him exit the nail salon with his little girl and having matching toe nail polish. Needless to say the tattooed man was not happy.

“Not only did he think being a good father meant I wasn’t a real man, but he was also homophobic. The ass had it coming,” he defended himself to Ori later that night. Not that he needed to. She understood, and sided with him completely.

“Mama! Come have tea with us,” her daughter shouted, catching sight of her lingering in the doorway. Dwalin smiled gently at her, lifting his teacup in a gesture of welcome.

“Don’t mind if I do, pumpkin,” she replied, sitting down beside her little family. She pressed a gentle kiss to Dwalin’s whiskery cheek before letting her little girl wrap a feather boa around her neck. Together, the happy family of three shared their tea.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can seriously picture Dwalin not only being great with kids, but having a little girl of his own and just being an amazing dad. I have fond memories growing up and my own dad letting me and my sister's paint his toe nails or play dress up with us.
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, or both? I take requests and read them all. Thank you for reading!


	11. BardxThranduil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard was a photographer with a decent following on Instagram. Thranduil was a world class model turned makeup artist. Yet the blond man wanted to hire him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some flirty, but platonic ThranduilxBard for you all. I needed a break from writing romance pairings and got this. I'm actually really happy with how it turned out. Hope you all enjoy it as well. :)

Bard nervously look at the paper in his hand, rereading the professionally printed address across the front for the umpteenth time before glancing up at the building in front of him to confirm that he had the right address. He did.

The grey steel building shot to the sky and glittered in the sun, impressing and intimidating him in equal measure. It was certainly a far cry from the apartment building he called home, a crumbling building of red brick that was should have been demolished years ago for safety reasons. Really it was the perfect place for a struggling photographer that ate cup ramen on a near daily basis to live. No where else would have him.

He glanced down at the paper in his hand again, knowing he was stalling. When he had gotten the call saying that Thranduil Orophin, one of the most well known models turned makeup artists ever, wanted to work with him it had been like a dream. Amazing and wonderful, but questionable. Bard was a somewhat talented photographer, with a decent following on Instagram and other social media sites, but he was definitely no Andy Warhol. Thranduil was far out of his league, by leaps and bounds. Why on earth would he want to work with Bard? He had asked the woman who called him, someone named Tauriel, just that.

“Your photos show agony but also resilience. Mr. Orophin likes that. When would be a good time for you to meet?”

He had stuttered out his reply and given a promise that they would send him a brief summary of his contract to look over before arriving. Now he was here, standing before Greenwood Tower, with his equipment carefully packed away in a case and a bundle of paper in his hand. Somewhere around him, perhaps the church he passed on the way here, a bell tolled thirteen times and signaled the new hour. Stiffening his spine, he gathered his courage and walked in.

The inside of the building was just as beautiful and daunting as the outside. Every surface was new and expensive, with technology that he only ever saw in movies and recently build airports. A woman with long red hair sat at the front desk, typing away at the computer in front of her. On her desk was a bronze nameplate with the name Tauriel Silvan engraved across it.

“Excuse me,” he interrupted, coming to stand before her. “I have an appointment with Mr. Orophin.”

“Finally decided to come in,” she asked, without looking away from her screen. Bard felt himself flush. He didn’t realize he could be seen from the inside. He told her as much. She looked at him with a smirk, though it wasn't unkind.

“The glass in only tinted on one side. We can see out but the outside can’t see in. Mr. Orophin is waiting for you, Mr. Bowman. I’ll take you to him.”

Bard nodded, his embarrassment keeping him from speaking. Tauriel left her desk and escorted him to a nearby elevator. With a swipe of a card key the doors opened and she invited him in.

“Mr. Orophin’s latest project is something he has never done before, but he believes you are the best choice to go with,” she explained as they road the elevator to the top floor.

“Because he thinks my photos convey ‘agony and resilience’?”

The woman smiled at him, nodding.

“Exactly. Fair warning, though. Mr. Orophin is used to getting what he wants, and he wants you. That being said, don’t let him walk all over you and don’t be afraid to negotiate a fair contract. He likes when people stand up to him.”

The elevator gave off a song ding, indicating that they had arrived. The doors opened straight into a studio/office. A blond haired man sat in a leather chair, flipping through the latest addition of Vogue in a disinterested manner.

“That will be all, Tauriel,” he lazily instructed.

The redhead gave him an encouraging smile and a gentle push out of the elevator. The doors closed and suddenly Bard was alone with the man who wanted to hire him. Silence stretched between them as Bard awkwardly waited for Thranduil to speak. The blond man didn’t, however, and continued to browse the magazine in his lap. Bard couldn’t a full minute passing before, at last, the other man spoke.

“You have a real talent for photography,” he drawled, long fingers stroking the glossy pages of the journal.

“Thank you,” Bard replied, uncertainly of what else to say. Thranduil suddenly looked up, icy blue eyes pinning him in place.

“So you agree? You think you have real talent?”

The dark haired man was quite sure how to respond to that. He didn’t want to come off as arrogant nor did he want this man to think he had no confidence in his work. Tauriel’s words in the elevator came to his mind. _Don't let him walk all over you._ With a coolness he didn’t quite feel at the moment he answered.

“I do. I’m certainly not the best in the field, but I know that I’m not the worst. Better than you average wedding photographer for sure.”

That had brought a smile to Thranduil’s lips.

“Well said,” he complimented, closing and tossing the magazine he had been reading to the side. He pointed the chair opposite of him. “Sit.”

Bard did, carefully placing his equipment bag out of the path of any feet before sitting. Now that he was closer he could take a closer look at his potential client. Thranduil was a beautiful man. He knew this. All last night he had carefully stocked not only his professional portfolio, but his personal media accounts as well. Long blond hair that was always perfectly straightened framed clear blue eyes and a chiseled face. More often than not he was wearing some sort of makeup, a cat eye style eyeliner or a red lipstick, but it never distracted from his natural beauty. In person he was much the same. Dark eye shadow framed his eyes in a flawless smoky look with an equally dark lip stain. His hair was carefully braided out of his face, showing off his sharp cheekbones. It was almost unfair how handsome this man was.

“Does my appearance make you uncomfortable,” Thranduil suddenly asked, arching a perfectly shaped brow in challenge. Bard suddenly realized he had been staring and fought off a mortified blush.

“No, not at all. Just wondering how fair it is that you are so beautiful,” he admitted before he could catch himself. There was no stopping his blush now. Why the hell was he flirting with his potential boss, if that nervous answer could even be considered flirting?

Thranduil, far from being offended, seemed to preen at the compliment.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Bowman. Or, may I call you _Bard_ ,” he practically purred his name.

“B-Bard is fine,” he replied, voice rough in response to the way Thranduil said his name. The blond’s grin turned positively predatory.

“And you may call me Thranduil.”

Feeling as if he was dangerously close to losing whatever hold he had since stepping off the elevator, Bard quickly took control.

“Miss Silvan mentioned that you are considering me as the photographer for your latest project?”

Thranduil frowned slightly at the subject change, but followed his lead nonetheless.

“What do you know of the Transgender community,” he asked, suddenly the picture of business like in his tone and manner. Bard shrugged.

“Not much, honestly.”

“Certainly you have an opinion?”

Bard hesitated, not quite sure where this conversation was going. He felt as if he was being tested and that one wrong word out of his mouth would end this meeting between them without a second thought. Not knowing exactly what this loaded question really meant, he decided to be honest.

“I believe that the Transgender community is on that has been vastly misunderstood and denied their rights for too long. If someone is born biologically male but identifies as female or vice versa than that should be respected in all aspects, from using the correct pronouns to allowing them to use whatever restroom they prefer without fear of violent retribution and beyond. They are people just like us and deserve every bit of respect that we demand for ourselves.”

It wasn’t a particularly moving answer, but it was what he truly felt to be right. Life was hard enough as it is without perceived social norms making it even harder for an individual that happened to fall outside to parameter of “normal”.

Thranduil studied him for a moment, his handsome face a picture of stoicism. Suddenly he reached for a manila folder on the table beside him and handed it to Bard. The dark haired man took it and opened it up. Inside was list of names, pictures, and short summaries that went along with each one. There were no less than thirty.

“These are individuals within the Trans community that have agreed to participate in my project. I want to document their lives, struggles, and strength to show to the world. I think you are the right photographer to help me truly make this something astounding.”

It certainly hadn’t been what Bard was expecting. All of Thranduil’s past projects had been frivolous, even two-dimensional in nature. Pieces that showcased beauty but had no real depth to him. This was on the opposite spectrum.

“Why this,” he asked, studying a picture of a young man with long dark hair that had been born Amelia but was now called Kili.

“My son,” Thranduil answered. “He was born Lillian Jane Orophin, but three years ago corrected the world, explaining that his name was Legolas and that he was a man. I have seen his struggles first hand and know that there are others out there who aren’t as lucky as he is in terms of support. I want to change that.”

Bard nodded, his mind already a whirl with possible scenes for the people he read about. Kili as an archer, showcasing his strong arms and wild hair, dirty from a battle he fought. Ori, a transwoman, curled up with a book before a roaring fire and her husband at her side. Naturally he would have to speak with each person before setting a final scene, but the muse was there.

It was a big project, bigger than anything he had ever done before. As inspired as he was by the idea and the stories in his lap, he couldn’t help but feel inadequate. They deserved a photographer that could truly showcase their struggles and victories. Bard wasn’t so sure that photographer was him.

“There are better photographers than me,” he admitted, closing the file.

Thranduil nodded.

“Yes, there are. Haldir O’Lorien, for example. His work has been shown in galleries across the world and has been called the genius of this generation. I want you, though,” he replied simply.

“Why?”

The blond shrugged a slim shoulder as if he was unaffected by the conversation between them, but his eyes spoke a different story however. They showed a hidden wisdom and understanding that few people could possess in this world. They saw Bard for who he truly was.

“Because though you can’t understand exactly what these people have gone through, what they are still going through, you understand struggle. I’ve read up on you, your story. Life hasn’t been easy for you and has done it’s very best to beat you down and keep you down. You won’t let it though. This is why I want you to be my photographer.”

It had been the most confidence anyone had ever shown in Bard and it was incredibly humbling. He still had his doubts as to whether or not he would meet the expectations this project had. However, he had his answer.

“I’ll do it.”

Thranduil gave him a self-satisfied smile, leaning back in his chair.

“Wonderful. Now that that’s out of the way, let's have lunch and you may continue to compliment me on my looks.”

Bard couldn’t help the small, disbelieving laugh that left his lips. He didn’t know exactly what he had agreed to, but he doubted he would regret it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this week has been the worst! First I was sick, then I was running on my feet all day with different appointments, and today I've been stuck on the couch because I did something with my back. I'm 22, I shouldn't be bed ridden over back pain!
> 
> But, it gave me time to think about today's story and post it as a decent time. Usually I'm posting right before midnight from where I am, pushing the limit of not missing a day. :) For those of you who are curious, I was actually inspired by Manny Gutierrez on instagram (mannymua733) who does some amazing makeup looks for Thranduil. Seriously, check him out. I love him!
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, or both? I take requests and read them all. Thank you for reading! :)


	12. Thorin/Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin was dyslexic. Bilbo was there to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ThorinxBilbo! Enjoy!

Thorin nearly snarled in frustration, glaring at the book in front of him. No matter how many times he read and reread the first paragraph the words just didn’t make sense to him. He knew it wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t being lazy and he wasn’t stupid. It was just the dyslexia. Of course, knowing that and believing it was another matter entirely. Inhaling through his nose and exhaling sharply, he began again, using his index finger to guide him along the page.

_Once, a long time ago, there ware poepel blasdes wit grat fa…_

It was pointless.

Letting his frustration overwhelm him he slammed the book shut, ignoring the startled and furious “shushing” noises the other patrons in the library gave him. He didn’t care.

“Excuse me,” a quiet, gentle voice interrupted his mini tantrum and was accompanied by a simple tap on his shoulder.

Thorin turned around, ready to glare at whoever it was that was coming to tell him off for the noise he was making. Standing behind him was another boy his age, with curly blond hair and mischievous blue eyes. Thorin recognized him from the hallways of Tolkien High, though they had separate friend groups and never interacted. Bilbo was his name.

“What,” Throin grunted, glaring at the boy. Bilbo wasn’t at all put off, instead giving him a half smile.

“I was wondering if you want to study together,” he asked, holding up the book in his own hands. It matched the one Thorin himself was trying to read. “I’m also have Professor Elrond for English, though at a different time. I thought we could maybe read together.”

It hadn’t been what he was expecting. Still, Thorin wasn’t one for charity.

“I don’t need your help,” he replied, face still a mask of intimidation. Not that it seemed to work with the shorter boy.

“Good for you, but you see, I do. I find that I do better with my English assignments when I have another person to bounce ideas off of. Usually my friend Hamfast helps me, but he had a date with Bell Goodchild and skipped out on me. Poor bugger has been working up the courage to ask her out for months, so I can’t really blame him,” he laughed, moving to take the empty seat beside Thorin. “What chapter are you on?”

Thorin feel a wash of hot shame in his stomach at his failures. He hid this from his classmate behind a wall of surliness though.

“The first one, and I told you, I don’t want to work with you.”

Bilbo shrugged, opening his own book to the first page.

“Tough luck, Oakenshield. I need a partner and it was between you and Smeagol. You are definitely the better option.”

The dark haired boy couldn’t help wincing at the mention of Smeagol. Every school has a weird kid that just didn’t mix well with the other students. For Tolkien High that kid was Smeagol. The dude was creepy.

“How about this? I’ll read aloud and you take notes. Every five chapters we’ll stop and discuss our thoughts. Sound like a plan?”

Thorin wanted to say no, to push the other boy away and continue to struggle on his own. But that would mean hours of agonizing over this short book with the end results being another low grade from his teacher and another disappointed lecture from his father. Bilbo was giving him a chance for something else.

“Fine,” he grunted, pulling out his notebook and pencil. “Start reading.”

Bilbo smiled brightly at him before focusing his eyes on the book in his hand. With a quick cough he began to read, voice soft but emotive.

_Once, a long time ago, there were people blessed with great fortune. Among these people was a boy. His name was Josiah…_

Thorin didn’t know how long they sat at the table together, Bilbo reading and bring the tale in the pages to life with his voice, and he, diligently taking notes of the important parts. Every five chapters they would stop and compare thoughts on what they had just read, shared who their favorite characters were so far and why. Suddenly, Bilbo shut the book, having read the last word on the last page. With a happy sigh, he leaned back in his chair and smiled dopily at the ceiling.

“I don’t know where Professor Elrond finds these stories, but they never fail to amaze me,” he confessed, eyes unfocused as he recalled the story they had just read. Thorin couldn’t help agreeing. When he wasn’t so focused on trying to decipher the words on the page he was able to truly enjoy the tale being read to him and found himself eager to find out what happened. Bilbo had a talent for storytelling.

“Nonsense,” the other boy scoffed. “I’m just reading the words on the page. I could never write something like that, not with my own words.” Thorin blushed as he realized he said his last thought out loud. Bilbo looked at him, still with a silly smile on his face.

“So, how about can I see the notes you took,” he asked. The older boy was reluctant to hand them over. He glanced at the pages he filled with his writing, knowing that the words written there were horribly misspelled and mixed up. He could read what he wrote, but to anyone else it would be pure gibberish. The idea of Bilbo seeing his awful attempts at writing English was humiliating.

“How about I just type them up and send them to you,” he grumbled, placing one large hand over his notebook.

“Or I can just read them now, get the gist of what you wrote, and write a brief summary in my own notebook. Much less work on your own part,” he replied. Before Thorin could stop him Bilbo had tugged his notebook out from under him and began to read, ignoring Thorin’s protests. The dark haired boy watched tensely as the blond scanned his work, looking for any sign of confusion, or worse, pity, on his face. None of that came, though. Instead, Bilbo put his notebook down with a satisfied smile and began to write in his own.

“I think I got it all,” he explained, quickly jotting down his thoughts. “You take very good notes, Thorin.”

Thorin frowned at the compliment, not quite believing what he just said.

“Is this some kind of joke,” he asked, tense at the idea of being mocked. Bilbo stopped writing, looking at him like he had grown another head.

“No? Why would I joke about that? I am much funnier than giving out fake praise.”

The tall boy pointed at the words he wrote, forcing Bilbo to focus on them.

“How can you look at this and tell me that I take ‘good notes’. I can’t even write proper English!”

Bilbo sighed and gave him an unimpressed look.

“Being dyslexic doesn’t mean you don’t understand anything, Thorin. Did it take me longer than usual to read your writing? Yes, but it wasn’t unmanageable. You understood the meaning of this story perfectly which proves you aren’t an idiot. You just need to work a little harder than others.”

Thorin felt his stomach drop at his words.

“You knew?”

Bilbo nodded.

“Yes. It wasn’t hard to tell.”

“So you saw me and thought to yourself: ‘This poor bastard can’t even read a simple book on his own. I better go save him!’”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I told you, I work better with a partner and you looked like you needed help as well. It just made sense.”

“I don’t need your pity!”

Thorin’s shout echoed through the library. He was surprised that their arguing up to this point had been kept at a reasonably quiet tone. The other patrons were mixed between glaring at him for his outburst and curious at what they were squabbling about. Thorin glared at them, silently daring them to say something. Bilbo scoffed, rolling his eyes at the display.

“I don’t pity you, Thorin. Why would I? You have a reading disorder, quite a common one. My cousin Drogo has it, and so did Albert Einstein and Thomas Edison and thousands of other people in this world. I meant what I said about needing a partner. None of this was done out of pity.”

He spoke so simply and so honestly that Thorin couldn’t help but believe him. Slowly, his anger began to fade.

Bilbo gathered his books and stood from the table.

“I’ll be here again tomorrow, same time. We’ll go over the rest of Professor Elrond’s assignment together. I’ll see you then.”

With that, the shorter boy walked out. Thorin watched him leave. He would show up tomorrow, and if Bilbo was willing, the day after that. It was far better than suffering on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Please note that I have no experience in dyslexia, and all my information is coming from a few YouTube videos I watched that explained the disorder to me.
> 
> Have any ideas of future stories, pairings, or both? I take requests and read them all. Thank you for reading! :)


	13. Dwalin/Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili sat on the throne well. But Dwalin could see his pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Valentine's Day is tomorrow, so before I write something super fluffy and romanticish I thought some angsty was in order. Enjoy!

Kili sat on the throne well, with a solemn yet regal air that Dwalin had never associated with his young husband. It was a presence that he had seen in Thorin and was beginning to sense in Fili before war and death snatched the both of them from this world. Now it was just the younger, the one never truly meant to be king. Whispers in the Mountain wondered whether or not it would have been a mercy for the young dwarf to succumb to his injuries alongside his uncle and brother. Not for any doubt of his competency to rule, never that. Kili had risen to the challenge of kingship with strength and had demonstrated his wisdom in may ways. There was a sadness to him, however, that could not be healed, no matter how hard Dwalin tried.

“You should rest,” he insisted, standing guard beside his husband. Despite his status as husband to the King, Dwalin refused the title Consort. No one mentioned it, but each of the Company believed that title deserved to stay with their hobbit friend. Bilbo was Thorin’s husband and would bare the title Consort until his death. King’s Guard was a title more than fitting for Dwalin.

Night had fallen on the Mountain, cloaking the already dark interior with greater shadows. Most had long since retired to their beds. Kili was not among them.

“You know I can’t,” the young dwarf replied, slouched in the throne. He didn’t wear his crown, having taken it from his head the moment the last member of court had left and letting a servant return it to their quarters. Dark bruises painted the skin beneath his eyes, speaking of long nights spent awake. Dwalin knew this intimately, feeling every toss and turn his husband made before it became too much and he left their shared bed all together.

“You must try,” he insisted, voice low and near desperate. Dwalin never begged for a thing in his life, but for Kili’s well being he would get on his knees before Thranduil. “Oin must have some concoction to sooth your thoughts and give you a dreamless sleep.”

Kili smiled sadly at him, eyes pained.

“That’s just it though. I don’t want a dreamless sleep. At least in my nightmares I can see them again,” he admitted. The confession was like a lance through Dwalin’s heart. He wanted nothing more than to take this pain from his husband and bare it himself. Kili had been through enough.

Kneeling down, he grabbed the younger dwarf’s head and pressed their foreheads together, silently offering his strength. He felt Kili’s hand gently rest against his neck and the smallest of pressure being returned.

“I would break mountains and drains seas for you, ghivashel, if it meant your happiness. It kills me to see you in such agony,” he said, voice thick with emotion

“I don’t want to cause you pain,” Kili replied. “But I can’t stop what I feel.”

Dwalin separated their foreheads only to replace his own with his lips.

“I could never ask that of you. I just ask that you let me help.”

The young man smiled sadly.

“Just be by my side. Promise me you will never leave me.”

Dwalin nodded.

“My place is beside my king and husband. Nothing will keep me from my duty.”

And he meant it. As long as there was breath in his body and Kili wished it, he would stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My legs are killing me! Hula today was tough. We not only learned a bunch of new chants, but also two new songs and another one we learned last week. My calves are one fire. :P
> 
> Have ideas for future stories, pairings, AU's, etc? I take requests and read them all. Thank you for reading!


	14. Dori/Balin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dori was a romantic person by nature, showering his love with all sorts of loving gestures. Balin showed his love in different ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! I hope you all felt the love, from friends, family, or partners. If not, know that I love you and truly appreciate you coming back everyday to read my silly stories. :) So, enjoy this DorixBalin piece from me!

Dori carefully placed the last rose in his arrangement, adjusting it ever so slightly until it rested with the others perfectly. With a happy sigh he stepped back and took it all in. The room was perfect.

The lights were dimmed low and soft, enticing music played in the background, setting the stage for a romantic night. All around the room were freshly cut flowers in vases, roses mostly, that gave the air a pleasant aroma that just begged you to breathe deeply. He had freshly washed and ironed his best tablecloth and it matched well with his mother’s china, also freshly washed and polished to perfection. The older man glanced at the clock and saw that he had a half hour left before Balin arrived. That gave him just enough time to finish cooking their evening meal, Balin’s favorite of baked chicken with lemon and mushroom sauce and garlic potatoes, and freshen up. With a happy hum, he bustled about the kitchen. Everything was perfect. The wine was open to breath, the cake he had made earlier that day was carefully place on display, and soon his love would return home and they would spend the evening in blissful romance. He loved Valentine’s Day.

Not that Dori needed an excuse to be romantic. He took great pleasure in wooing his husband, despite being married for over twenty years. Normally it was just little things, like a small handwritten sonnet tucked in with his lunch or surprising him with cupcakes he made special for him. Valentine’s Day though, that was when he went all out. Every romantic gesture you could think of Dori had done. During lunch flowers were delivered to his office, with a little heart container of chocolates and a tiny teddy bear. Carefully chosen cufflinks, silver ones shaped like turtles with sapphire shells, had been wrapped in red and pink paper had been presented to him this morning, along with a heartfelt card that he had nearly wept over when he wrote. Yes, Dori was a very romantic person and saw no shame in embracing such things. Valentine’s Day was his holiday.

With everything in place, and he himself dressed in his best waist coat (the green one that had little gold buttons), he patiently waited for his husband to arrive.

The clock chimed six o’clock, and like magic the door opened to reveal Balin in all his glory.

“What is that most enticing smell,” the Scottish man teased, taking a deep inhale as the smell of chicken and potatoes wafted through the air.

“Dinner, my love, for which you are just in time,” Dori replied with a bright smile.

The other man sighed and have his husband a besotted smile.

“You spoil me, my dear. How did I ever get so lucky?”

Dori laughed, taking his husband’s coat and placing a kiss on his cheek.

“You can thank your brother for that. We would have never met if he hadn’t arrested Nori.”

Balin laughed, patting his belly at the memory.

“Fate certainly does work in mysterious ways.”

The two men walked together to the dining room, Dori lingering slightly behind so he could see Balin’s full reaction to the room. Sure enough, the older man stopped and took it all in with wide eyes. He tilted his head slightly to hear the music playing and gently fingered the flowers closest to him. Dori entered after him, coming to stand beside one of the two seats set at the small table.

“Join me for dinner,” he asked with a coy smile.

“It would be my utmost pleasure. But first, a gift for my love,” Balin replied, fishing a small envelop from his pocket. Dori happily accepted it, smiling at the little heart sticker that sealed it shut. He opened it and took out the card inside.

It was bright red with a little cartoon raccoon on the front with a mask on, holding an overly large heart. On the inside was a simple little greeting.

**To the one stole my heart,**

**Happy Valentine’s Day!**

Toward the bottom was Balin’s signature, with three little X’s and three little O’s written beside it.

Dori looked up, a tender smile across his face. Balin smiled back shyly, a light blush dancing across his face.

“Do you like it,” he asked. Dori nodded.

“I love it. Thank you.”

Balin’s smile grew to take up his entire face, and he pulled his husband in for a chaste kiss.

“Shall we have dinner, then?”

The two sat down and ate their meal in peace. Balin’s card to Dori was placed in the center, on display for the two of them. It would stay there for the night and tomorrow, when Valentine’s Day was over, Dori would carefully slip it into his scrapbook alongside all the other cards Balin had given to him over their twenty years together. Every time he would look at it he would smile and know how loved he truly was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit, I kind of did a little squeal when writing this. But, they are just too cute! I love romance stories involving older people. Did you see the one of the WWII sweethearts reuniting after 70 years? I cried!
> 
> Have any ideas for futures stories, pairings, AUs, etc.? I take requests and read them all. Thank you for reading!


	15. Fili/Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwarves were normally immune to sickness. On the rare times they were sick, though, they didn't handle it well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili! Enjoy. :)

Winter arrived with a fierceness that sent many staggering and with it, all the sickness that came with being cold, wet, and miserable. Dwarves, as creatures initially hewn from rock, were impervious to most bodily ailments. They didn’t suffer the flu that took Men down by the hundreds nor the mysterious wasting sickness that has been known to plague healthy elves who suffered neither heartache or physical wound. That being said, they weren’t wholly resistant of disease. Most came from the leftovers of war, when a wound festered and rotted. However, every few years, a particularly vicious ailment would sweep through the dwarven settlements and cling to the residents. Erebor was no different.

“I’m dying,” Kili wailed from the bed, sniffing obnoxiously loud as if to prove his point. Fili watched amusedly as he flailed about, trying to get comfortable. The blond prince was carefully mixing the herbs Oin had left him to help his brother sleep, but couldn’t help stopping to watch the pitiful sight before him.

Truly, Kili was the worst dwarf at being sick. Even their uncle, in all his mopey and grouchy glory, couldn’t rival his state. Kili truly made it into an art.

“You aren’t dying,” he patiently replied. “Oin says this sickness, though uncomfortable, hasn’t proven to be fatal. He isn’t even worried about the dwarflings who have caught it, much less dwarrow in their prime.”

Kili sniffed loudly again, his already large nose swollen and red. He glared as best as he could at his brother, but it lost some of its effect when he was interrupted by a loud sneeze.

“What does Oin know? He isn’t sick,” the younger prince pouted, curling up around his pillow. Fili couldn’t stop the grin that split his face at the sight. His brother was like a little kitten who had been dunked in water, all righteously indignant but no one is able to take seriously in that state. Finishing his work with the medical concoction, he approached the bed and sat beside his brother.

“Drink this,” he instructed, offering the cup. “It will help.”

Kili frowned and shook his head, burying his face in the mattress.

“No. It smells funny and no doubt tastes worse!”

Fili rolled his eyes. As much as he took amusement in his brother’s antics, they were also equally bothersome. The charms of siblings.

“If you drink it, you can have a treat,” he bribed. Kili peeked one calculating eye at him.

“What sort of treat?”

“Anything you want. Within reason,” he promised. The dark haired dwarrow watched his carefully, searching for any sign of deceit. Finally, he flipped on his back.

“Give me a kiss,” he demanded like a spoiled brat, which he was.

Not to say Fili was complaining. He liked giving his brother kisses, very much so.

“Just the one,” he teased, leaning forward enticingly. Kili grinned back.

“For now. We’ll see what else I come up with,” he replied, propping himself on his elbows. “Kiss first, then medicine.”

It seemed like a fair enough trade in Fili’s eyes. He would hate to have the kiss his brother after he took his medicine when his normally sweet tasting mouth was tainted with bitter herbs and foul remedies.

Placing the cup on the stand beside the bed, the older brother gently cradled the younger brother’s chin in his hand and guided his mouth to his. The sensation of his beard, still sparse but growing every day, scratching against his was intoxicating, as was the feeling of his lips opening to his own. Carefully he guided his tongue deeper into Kili’s mouth, taking the lead as he always did. He stroked it gently with his own, coaxing soft mewling sounds from his brother’s mouth. Fili smirked at the little noises, pleased that he could still entice them after all their years together. Kili made the best noises.

Reluctantly he parted, knowing that he couldn’t let Kili have more, no matter how much they both wanted it. His brother was still sick after all. He placed one more chaste kiss on Kili’s lips, chasing away the pout that was forming.

“Now your medicine,” he insisted. Kili rolled his eyes but stuck to his word, grabbing the cup and quickly downing the medicine. He swallowed it all with a grimace and an overly dramatic set of gags. It had Fili chuckling.

“Sadist,” the younger brother accused, falling back down into his pillows.

“You love me,” the elder replied, leaning down to press a kiss to his warm forehead.

“Can’t imagine why,” Kili said sleepily. The medicine had already begun to take effect.

Fili watched his fall off to sleep, finally comfortable enough to get some rest. He should leave, finish his duties for the day. The sight of his sleeping brother was too tempting to leave though.

_Damn it all_ , he thought fondly, adjusting himself so he was laying fully on the bed, Kili’s head now resting his lap while his body was carefully cradled in one of Fili’s arms. His duties would be there tomorrow. With that final thought, Fili followed his brother into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the sickness making it's way through my house at the moment. Not what I had last week, something new dad brought home from work. My brother's are the biggest babies when it comes to being sick. Seriously, you would think it was the plague instead of some stomach bug the way they go on about it.
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.? I take request and read them all. Thank you for reading and I'll see you tomorrow.


	16. Ori/Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori wasn't one to keep secrets. This one, though, he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back! Thank you all for the well wishes. The last few days sucked, but now it's over and I can be assured I have at least 6 months immunity to the Norovirius, according to WebMD. :) To celebrate, here is some Ori/Thorin. Enjoy!

Ori wasn't a man who kept many secrets. He had a hard time keeping his brother's surprise party a secret, though he adamantly believed that he hadn't been the one to spoil it in the end. Nori was just very hard to fool.

This secret, though, this he could keep quiet.

"Mr. Durin, your twelve o'clock meeting has been rescheduled to next week. Mr. Dain's son has come down with appendicitis and will be having surgery today," Ori informed his boss, placing the updated itinerary on his desk.

"Make sure we send a get well basket," Thorin replied, looking over the new schedule as he leaned back in his chair.

"Already done, sir."

Thorin looked up from the paper, peering over his glasses with a soft smile.

"You know you don't have to call me 'sir', Ori."

The younger man felt a coy smile creep onto his face.

"But, sir," he teased, moving to stand beside his boss. Thorin watched him amusedly. "I'm just trying to be respectful. You are my elder, after all."

The innocent act was one he knew his lover would instantly react to. Everyone had their quirks, and Thorin's just happened to run along the lines school boy and virgin fantasies. Sure enough, Ori was right. With an appreciated growl, Thorin grabbed his wrist and pulled him down into his lap. The secretary giggled, letting the older man lavish his neck in bristly kisses.

"You minx," he scolded, chuckling lowly along with Ori's breathless giggles.

"You love it."

Thorin made no move to deny that. Anything Ori did the dark haired man adored. Ori could tell him that he lost his Company millions of dollars and he would still think he was the loveliest creature he had ever set his eyes on. Luckily for him, Ori was too kind hearted for such things.

"What shall we do with all this free time, then," he wondered, pulling the red head further against his lap. Ori gasped at the feeling, instinctively grinding his hips against his lover.

"Something tells me you have an idea," he panted lightly, biting his lip to stifle a moan from escaping.

"A few," Thorin whispered into his ear, his hot breath dancing across his neck and causing him to shiver. Ori knew the older man had the dirtiest smirk on right now.

The younger man was about to reply, quite enthusiastically in fact, when his cell phone chimed. With frustrated groan, he fished it out of his pocket to check who it was, ignoring the feather like kisses he was receiving along his neck and shoulder. He froze at the sight on his screen.

"Your wife is here," he informed, quickly jumping out of Thorin's lap and straightening his vest. "Bofur at security just sent her up."

Thorin groaned, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes in frustration.

"Why is she here? She knew I had a meeting," he grumbled.

"Mrs. Durin is good friends with Mr. Dain's wife. No doubt she heard of their son's surgery," Ori replied, leaning forward to hurriedly adjust Thorin's tie so it lay flat. He refused to meet his eyes.

"Ori," the older man began, grabbing his fussing hands in his own. "You know if I could send her away, I would."

The secretary smiled sadly. It's something Thorin often told him, almost as often as he told him that he loved him. Usually he believed it. He had to believe it.

"I know, Thorin."

His lover sighed, pressing a quick kiss to his temple.

"We'll have time later. I promise."

Ori nodded before stepping away and putting a respectable amount of distance between them. Just in time, as the office door was swung open to reveal a pretty, middle age blond woman in an expensive dress.

"Surprise, darling," she laughed, her red lips split into a wide smile. "Happy to see me?"

Thorin returned the smile, almost too easily, Ori sourly noted.

"Always, my dear. Your visits are what I look forward to most."

Ori tried not to let that small comment hurt too much. It was something Thorin had to say, to keep his wife happy and unassuming.

The pretty blond woman laughed happily, pressing a kiss to her husband's lips. Ori had to look at his shoes.

"And how are you today, Ori," she asked suddenly, turning around and giving the young man a friendly smile. He did his best to mirror it with his own.

"Very well, thank you, Mrs. Durin."

"My husband not working you too hard? I can bully him into giving you more vacation if you'd like," she teased. He laughed along, hoping she didn't spot the fakeness.

"Don't worry, he treats me very well."

"Good, good! Well, I hope you don't mind but I plan on stealing him from you this afternoon. It's been far too long since I've had lunch with my husband. Part of me thinks it's deliberate and he's found a pretty young thing to keep him company here."

The words were spoken in jest, but hit far too close to home for Ori's comfort.

"There is only you, pet," Thorin reassured, kissing her temple just like he he kissed Ori's. "And lunch sounds wonderful. Ori, I'll be back around two. Hold my calls until then."

"Of course, Mr. Durin," he replied.

"Goodbye, Ori. Please tell your brothers I said hello," Mrs. Durin bid farewell as she led her husband out of his office. Ori watched them leave.

"I will, Mrs. Durin. Always a pleasure to see you."

And then they were gone, leaving him alone in the large office.

Ori didn't keep secrets well, but this one he did. All in the hopes that, someday, he wouldn't have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to make up the days, I will be posting extra stories on the weekend. Most likely Sunday. So look for that!
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	17. Fili/Sigrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili couldn't remember a more awkward moment. Luckily for him, Sigrid had more grace for such things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Sigrid. So cute!

Fili couldn't remember a more awkward experience in his life. His uncle glowered at Bard, all the while viciously tearing into his meat like a wild animal. Bard, to his credit, ignored the dwarf king, taking his time to compliment Bilbo on the meal and inquire after him. How did he enjoy the Mountain? How long did he plan to stay? What was the Shire like? Polite things like that.

Kili, being a steadfast supporter of his brother but also wanting to please their uncle, did his best to ease the tension. He told joke after joke, which had Sigrid's siblings laughing, but fell short with the adults. Bilbo, bless him, tried to get Bard and Thorin to acknowledge each other politely, steering the conversation to topics they might have in common. He wasn't very successful.

The blond prince glanced at Sigrid, who sat across from him, and shot her a concerned look. She kept her own face blank, save for a single quirk of her eyebrow. He watched her delicately take a sip of her goblet, before politely clearing her throat and looking straight at Thorin.

"Your Majesty, your nephew has told me many tales of your adventures. Is it true that you forged the sword the King of Rohan now uses," she asked, silencing all attempts at conversation around them. Everyone looked to Thorin. As his anger was only directed at Bard, it would be impolite and distasteful to treat Sigrid, a princess, with the same disregard. On top of that, everyone knew any rudeness shown toward her on his part would gain the rage of not only Bard, but Fili as well.

Clearing his throat and wiping the excess grease from his meal off his face, Thorin replied.

"It is. I was a young prince, not much older then Fili is now, when my travels brought me to Edoras. The king, hearing a dwarf smith was in the city, immediately sent for me and commissioned a broadsword. He paid quite handsomely and I was able to return to my kin with enough coin for the winter," he explained.

Sigrid nodded with a pleasant smile before turning to her father.

"What a coincidence, father. Both you and King Thorin provided the King of Rohan your service. It is a small world, is it not?"

Bard, sighing at his daughter's sly ways, agreed.

Kili, picking up on Sigrid's cue, asked after Bard's time in Rohan. The man obligingly told his story.

"I was a young man, newly an adult. My family was poor and there were little jobs of worth in Laketown. It was my father who suggested I seek my fortune in Rohan. I was a decent swordsman and an even better bowman. I approached the king and offered myself to him as a warrior. He accepted and I joined one of the eored's. I was amongst them for five years when I met my wife. She was the daughter of a retired horseman who now took care of one of the kings herds. I asked to marry her the moment I saw her. She turned me down quite harshly, but I was persistent," Bard reminisced with a fond smile.

"Grandfather was against the match as well, wasn't he father? Why was that again?"

Bard shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but Sigrid calmly stared him down, her pleasant smile still on her face. Finally, the human king sighed in resignation and answered.

"He had heard of my lineage. Claimed no daughter of his would marry a cursed man like me. He believed my family was doomed to a miserable end because my ancestor, Lord Girion, failed to kill Smaug."

Sigrid, looking very pleased with herself, took another sip of wine.

"But you convinced him blood does not define the man in the end. I wouldn't be here if you hadn't. A happy end for you and mother," she remarked.

For a moment father and daughter stared at each other, the first with a pondering look and the latter still smiling. It was Bard who looked away first, shaking his head and half-smiling with graceful defeat.

"Very well, Sigrid, you have made your point," he admitted. He leaned forward and grasped her hand.

"If you truly love this dwarf then you shall have my blessing. I shall call him my son and love him as such."

Sigrid's smile turned from casually pleasant to completely joyous. If they had been in a more informal situation she would have leaped across the table to hug her father fiercely in gratitude and love. She remembered her manners though, and instead grabbed his hand and kissed it. Bard smiled gently down at her, using his other hand to gently cup her face.

"I only want happiness for your, daughter. And if you have found it in this dwarf, then so be it."

Sigrid felt tears form in her eyes.

"Thank you, papa," she whispered, pressing another kiss to his hand.

The human king kissed her forehead and then turned to the dwarf prince.

"I know the duties a Royal has to their kingdom. I understand that you cannot always put my daughter ahead of your people. But you must swear to me that she will come first in all else. No gold, gems, or glory shall ever take precedence over her well being and happiness. Promise me this and she shall be yours," he demanded, a stern and fierce look on his face as he stared down the prince.

Fili solemnly nodded.

"I swear. Her happiness comes before all else, even my own. And if ever I break that promise, may Mahal turn my stone bones into sand and let my beard wither away."

His oath seemed to please Bard, though it was hard to tell as even when happy he had a rather grim looking face. The dwarf prince turned to his own King, who sat with a glower still on his face.

"Uncle," he tentatively asked. Thorin didn't react to his voice, until Bilbo laid a gentle hand on his own. The dwarf king turned to look at the hobbit and a silent conversation passed between them. At last Thorin let out a deep sigh and nodded.

"You have my blessing to wed this woman. My Mahal bless your union."

It wasn't an enthusiastic show of support, but it was support nonetheless. Fili knew it was a hard thing for his uncle to do and that, in time, he would be genuinely happy for his marriage to Sigrid. He was more than happy to wait, purely elated with the progress they made that night.

"A toast, then," Bilbo suddenly called out, raising his goblet aloft. "May these two share in an eternal spring of love for all their lives."

The sentiment was echoed around table. Fili happily accepted their well wishes, taking a deep draft of his own wine. At some point Sigrid had slipped her hand into his. He gently squeezed it and smiled as she squeezed back. All was well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thank you for reading! :)


	18. Kili/Tauriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili has never seen color, having never met his soulmate. It's all he wants, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kili and Tauriel in a Soulmate AU. Enjoy!

Kili only knew a world of grey. Everything monotone and dull. He knew that wasn't how it should be, that the real world was full of vibrancy and color. You just had to wait until you could see it.

His mother saw it, in all it's wonderful shades. When he was a child, she would tell him and his brother all about colors in words that made sense for those who had no other way of basing their ideas of color off of.

"Blue," she would say, holding up a blanket that, to them, seemed a dark grey, almost black. "Blue is the color of a cold glass of water on a hot day. The chill of a freshly fallen snow at dawn. The smell of the ocean air. It can be warm and cold, but it's always relaxing. Unlike orange, which can bring peace, like the scent of spring flowers, or chaos, like pots and pans falling onto a tiled floor. Fili's eyes are blue."

"And mine, mama? What are mine," he would ask eagerly, already knowing her answer by heart.

"Your eyes, my Kili, are the color of freshly baked brownies, still warm from the oven. The taste of hot chocolate with cinnamon during Christmas time. They are the color of family gatherings, cozy and well loved, as well as the wild of the woods, free and unburdened. Your eyes are brown."

She always told them of colors, though Kili knew it sometimes made her sad. Losing his father, her true soulmate, he knew had been devastating for her. But he thought it was a good thing she could still see color. He had heard stories of people losing their soulmate and losing the gift of color as well. At least when she saw the color yellow, the shade of his father's hair, she could remember him and smile.

Fili got his colors first.

"It's like nothing you've ever imagined," he told Fili one night. It was late, and they were the only two awake. The sat on the porch, watching the stars together.

"The sky isn't black, like we thought. It's blue, a blue so deep and varied that it swallows you whole. It's intimidating but you can't stop staring."

Kili looked at the sky, trying to understand what Fili was telling him. He couldn't though. All he could see was the stars mixed with black, cold and distant. It made him sad, not being able to share this with his brother. He changed the subject.

"Tell me of Sigrid."

The smile that lit up his brothers face at the thought of his soulmate eased his gloom.

"Colors won't stop you from living a full and good life," Thorin lectured, trying to comfort him in the only way he knew. It wasn't exactly what he needed, but Kili appreciated the effort nonetheless.

"Can you honestly tell me, uncle, that you aren't happier now that you have Bilbo? He gave you your colors," he replied.

Thorin conceded with a nod.

"It's true, Bilbo brings me the greatest happiness. But not because he makes me see colors. Rather his very person is what makes me happy. The way he laughs or wrinkles his nose when thinking, how he always makes tea for me when I get home, no matter how late. I could be struck blind tomorrow and still be happy because I have him. Colors have nothing to do with that."

Kili sighed, knowing he spoke the truth. It hardly made him feel better, though. After all, he hadn't found his soulmate yet. So the happiness Thorin talked about was also unknown to him.

"Give it time, Kili," Bilbo comforted with a soft smile, squeezing his hand gently. "You will find your soulmate someday. You just need patience."

So he continued to wait. That didn't mean he stopped looking. From moment he woke up in the morning to when he shut his eyes to sleep he was constantly searching, subtly initiating contact with strangers in the hope that his eyes would soon be flooded with all the colors he was missing. Nothing though.

"Some people just aren't meant to see color, lad. There is no shame in that," Balin had informed him, smoking his pipe with a comforting smile. "I have never seen red or green, but that doesn't make me a lesser person than someone who has. I am also very happy, surrounded by family and friends. It might not be a romantic love, but it is love."

"But don't you ever regret not knowing what it's like? Resent those that have what you don't?"

Balin sighed, eyes getting distant as he pondered the question.

"Sometimes," he admitted. "When I see Dwalin and Ori entwined on the couch, picking colors of yarn from a catalog for Ori's next project. I regret it then. But I never resent them, or others, for what they have. I would never begrudge them their happiness just because it's a kind I'll never know."

Like Thorin, Balin spoke the truth. Kili would never beat a grudge against his brother, his uncle, or his mother for what they had. He only wanted happiness for them. It wasn't in his nature to wish for anything else.

Still, the idea of never experiencing what they had was a depressing one. He left Balin's that day in a somber state, for one eyes not filtering from stranger face to strange face in the hopes that one of them would stick out. He just stared at his shoes.

However, this meant that he missed the person heading in his direction, a woman similarly distracted, until they collided and fell into a heap. Kili grunted at the impact, eyes shutting instinctively as he focused on the pain.

When it subsided he slowly opened them, an apology ready on his lips to be given, only to stop short at the sight before him. The most beautiful sight he had ever seen and one he would never grow tired of watching.

"Orange," he whispered, awe in his voice. The woman with the most beautiful haired stared back at him, equally as startled and awe inspired as he was. "Like the scent of spring flowers, not the sound of pots and pans on a tiled floor."

She smiled at his words, pink lips revealing white teeth.

"I was always told brown was an ugly color, but I can see that is wrong. It is the most beautiful," she replied, staring deep into his eyes.

Kili grinned madly, his face hurting with the effort.

"I am Kili," he said, offering his hand. The woman took it, soft and feminine.

"I am Tauriel. Thank you, for my colors."

"Believe me, the pleasure is all mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	19. Dwalin/Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin was determined to flirt with the man in the coffee shop. The other man seemed to miss the memo, however.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to clarify that I don't condone Dwalin's behavior here. This only works in fiction. Don't be the ass who flirts like this and makes people uncomfortable! Pick up lines are fine, but when someone gives you a clear rejection take it with grace and leave them be. Also, personal boundaries.
> 
> With that, enjoy the story! :)

Dwalin originally walked into the coffee shop with one thing on his mind. A large pumpkin spiced latte with whipped cream, maybe even a slice of pumpkin bread to go along with it. That was it. However, the sight of a cute, slightly chubby little man sitting at one of the tables by the window with a book in his hand had him rethinking his plans. That was fine, he thought with a grin bordering on leering. He was very flexible.

He quickly ordered his drink and bread, and stood off to the side to watch the mysterious man while it was being made.

The man was oblivious to the rest of the shop, so absorbed in his book. Dwalin couldn't read the title from where he was, not that he really cared. Reading wasn't really his thing. The man, however, was. Golden curls that contrasted well with his golden skin, he was petite and soft with a button nose. His voice was probably toward the high range of tone, nearly effeminate. Just Dwalin's type.

When his drink was ready, he struck. With all the confidence that came with being a man of six feet and seven inches of pure muscle, he approached the table.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing all alone here," he asked, pitching his voice low and adding a huskiness to it. Thorin called it his 'tonsillitis voice', but Dwalin brushed it off. He knew what worked, and the voice did it for people. Besides, Thorin did it as well, though he would never admit it.

He waited for some sort of response, but the man kept reading. Thinking he hadn't been heard, he tried again, a little louder.

"You know I'm not a photographer, but I can picture me and you together."

Still nothing, a clear rejection. That almost never happened.

Frowning, he stepped away from the table and stalked out of the coffee house. He needed time to nurse his hurt pride.

He went back the next day. Sure enough, the man was there again. This time waiting in line, his back to Dwalin. Good! He couldn't ignore him behind a book this time.

Stalking forward, like a tiger hunting its prey, he approached the man. Stopping well within the man's personal space, he leaned close to whisper in his ear.

"Did you sit in a pile of sugar? Because you have a sweet ass!"

Grinning like a fool, he waited for a reaction. He hoped it was a cute as the barista who was running the register, now wide eyed and blushing madly. However, like the day before still nothing.

"Your usual, Bilbo," the barista stutter out, handing over a sealed drink and a small pastry bag. The man, Bilbo was his name, nodded, but said nothing in return, grabbing his purchase and turning around. He seemed surprised at Dwalin's appearance, blue eyes widening in shock and taking a small step back. Not the reaction Dwalin was hoping for.

Bilbo gave him a soft smile before brushing past him and walking out of the shop. Dwalin watched him leave, a sour taste in his mouth. Rejected a second time.

"Pumpkin spice latte, extra whipped cream," he growled at the barista, daring him to make some sort of comment or give him a pitying look. Wisely, he didn't. Instead he rushed off to get his order and Dwalin left in record time.

The following day he went back. What can he say? Dwalin hated losing. Thorin would say he was a glutton for punishment. Dwalin would then punch him.

Sure enough, like the last two days Bilbo was there. Now he was simply sitting at a table, watching the world go past the window. He bypassed the order counter and made for the man.

Stopping right in front of him, Bilbo looked up in surprise, but smiled at him nonetheless. Now that he had his full attention, Dwalin laid on the charm.

"If you were a vegetable, you would be a cute-cumber."

There, he used his best line on the man. If he got rejected now, it just wasn't meant to be.

Bilbo furrowed his brow at him, an obvious look of confusion. That was his only response, though. With a frustrated sigh, Dwalin tried again.

"Listen, I've been trying to flirt with you for three days now. If you aren't interested, just tell me!"

Bilbo gave gave him another confused look, this time slightly apologetic. He brought his index finger to the corner of his mouth and then to his ear in a deliberate manner. Dwalin was sure he was missing something.

"What?"

Bilbo sighed, fishing into his jacket pocket and pulling a small notepad and pen out. He quickly jotted something down and showed it to Dwalin.

**I'm Deaf.**

Now he felt like an idiot. All this time he thought Bilbo was ignoring him, when in reality he couldn't hear him. He handed the notepad back with a sheepish look.

"Sorry," he mumbled, more for his benefit than Bilbo's really.

The curly haired man was no looking very amused. He wrote down another message and handed it over with the pen.

**Can I buy you a cup of coffee?**

Dwalin was surprised by the answer, but didn't hesitate to write down his own answer.

**_Pumpkin spice, if you don't mind._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Dwalin thinks he has mad game in terms of pick up lines, but in reality is a huge dork.
> 
> Also, my interaction with the Deaf Community is limited to the ASL class I'm taking this semester. I am by no means a representative for their culture.
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? Let me know! I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	20. Thranduil/Bard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil hated life in a tower. Luckily for him his rescue had just arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one for tonight, which means tomorrow I'll post two and that will catch me up with all I missed. :)  
> Enjoy some ThranduilxBard!

Life in a tower was so terribly boring. The view remained the same, the means of distraction never changed, and the company was sorely lacking. Thranduil hated being bored.

"I really should work on an escape plan," he would muse everyday and then spend the next hour or so coming up with halfhearted plans on how he would finally be rid of this isolated life. They were never serious though, because as much as he hated being stuck here, Thranduil also hated the idea of having to do any work himself. He was royalty, thank you very much. Tradition dictated that he be rescued, not him saving himself. He often ignored the fact that it had been years since he saw anyone beside the batty old wizard who had locked him here in the first place and the chances of his "traditional rescue" were getting slimmer and slimmer. He was stubborn.

It was another boring day when it happened. The sun was shining, how dull, and the birds were singing, so cliché, when out of the woods a man dressed in fine leathers rode out on a grey horse. Curiosity piqued, he watched him approach his tower and stop right beneath his window.

"I seek Thranduil, Prince of the Woodland Realm, son of King Oropher," he called out, voice deep and grave like a tomb.

"I am he. Who is it that wonders," he replied, observing the stranger with a detached look. He looked tall and grim, with dark brown hair framing a dribbled face. Handsome, no doubt, he had the bearing of a common man. Proud, but by no means Royal.

"Bard, of Dale. I come to rescue you at the behest of your father."

So far Thranduil was far from impressed. Where was his greatly decorated knight? Did he not deserve the best? He asked the man, this Bard, just that. He just shrugged.

"They couldn't defeat the wizard who put you here. I did, so I was sent."

The prince hid his surprise well. The news of the wizards defeat was certainly shocking. Gandalf may have imprisoned him here ("For your own good," the old man had assured him.) but he had grown rather fond of him. He also knew he was very powerful. So how did this commoner do it?

"Cards. We played a game of cards and I won. Your release was my prize."

Thranduil's fondness of Gandalf was suddenly nonexistent.

"Do what you will," he finally said, waving his hand dismissively. Bard rolled his eyes, dismounting from his horse and grabbing his bow.

"Step back, or you'll be hit," he warned, notching an arrow and aiming it through the window. Thranduil stepped aside. He heard a sharp twang and watched as an arrow soared into his room and embedded itself into his bedpost. His mahogany bed post. That turned his mood sour.

Attached to the end of the shaft was a rope, which trailed out of the tower and toward the ground. Moving back to the window he watched as Bard began to slowly climb up.

"You can't be serious," he asked, watching the progress with a sneer. "How on earth do you plan on getting me down that?"

"On my back, tied like a deer if I need to," Bard grunted and continued to climb.

"Well, at least hurry it up. I want to get this over with as soon as possible."

The dark haired man stopped and flared up at him.

"Perhaps if you pulled the rope from your end and helped me this would all be over faster."

"No. You're the one staging the rescue, my job is to wait patiently and kiss you in the end. Besides, I'll get blisters if I pull that rope."

He heard something that could pass as a laugh escape the man, who resumed his ascent.

"Blisters won't kill you, and I'm not asking you to kiss me."

Thranduil frowned at his comment.

"I'm a very good kisser, thank you very much."

"I'm sure you are. I just don't want first hand evidence."

"Do you think I'm ugly? Is that it?"

Again, something like a laugh escaped Bard. He was now three quarters of the way up the tower.

"Not ugly, but definitely not my type."

Thranduil was a prince! He was everyone's type.

"I like honest people, who aren't afraid to work for living. Pampered damsel living in a tower isn't my thing."

He was now throughly offended.

"We'll see about pampered," he snapped, grabbing hold of the rope on his end and tugging at it with all his might. He smirked at the surprised shout from Bard as he pulled him up and through his window. He didn't even give the man a chance to catch his breath before Thranduil was dragging him up by his tunic and pressing their mouths together in a searing kiss. At first the dark haired man didn't respond, too shocked to do anything else beside stand there. However, he soon found himself moving with the kiss, following Thranduil's league.

After he was sure the man got a proper taste of his skill, the prince let him go.

"That is what it's like to kiss me," he snobbishly informed, arching an eyebrow in a silent challenge. Bard licked his lips and gave him a conceding nod.

It satisfied Thranduil, for now.

"Now, let's get this over with. I would like to be home by sundown."

Things were suddenly not so boring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil is, and always will be, a diva. Poor Bard! :)
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	21. Bofur/Nori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur tolerated a lot. Homophobes were not one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick Bofur and Nori.

Bofur, by his very nature, was a genial kind of man with a long temper. He could get along with nearly everyone he met, not at all put off by any annoying quirks or habits they may have. Loud chewing? Didn't bother him. Talking in the movie theater? That was fine. Constantly being late? No worries! None of these things irked him and he went about his life with a happy smile on his face.

Now, that didn't mean he was fine with all negative aspects of a person. Far from it. He hated people who gossiped about their friends and people who only took in a relationship and didn't give anything in return were on his short list. But, above all else, he hated homophobic idiots.

So when a group of them made themselves at home by his toy shop, shouting slurs and horrible things at people who walked by, especially anyone that didn't look like they passed as "normal" he was rather upset.

"Those bastards are scaring my customers," he growled, watching now as people crossed the street to get away from the angry protestors.

"Can't do much about it," Nori replied, equally put off by the display of hate.

It was true. Unfortunately the protestors had picked the one street corner that wasn't owned by any shop owner, making it public space. They were free to shout to their hearts content.

Bofur was suddenly struck with an idea.

"Come with me," he said, grabbing his boyfriend and dragging him outside. The shouts, which had been muffled by his shop glass, nearly overwhelmed them when they stepped outside.

Bofur grinned, planting himself firmly by his shop door and leaned back, taking a deep breath and cupping his hands around his mouth.

"Today only, all profit made in my shop will be donated to helping LGBT+ youth homes! Protect our friends, buy a toy!"

His shout temporarily drowned out the protests, catching the attention of people walking passed. Suddenly the weren't hurrying away anyone. Instead, one by one, they made their way into his shop and began browsing his wares. Nori, catching on, quickly propped the door open before typing away at his phone.

"Just updated your Facebook page, Twitter, and Instagram. Also sent a message to the others to spread the word," he informed his boyfriend. Bofur's grin was wide and infectious. They ignored the personal attacked now being thrown at them from the protestors.

"I love you," Bofur exclaimed, pulling him into a passionate kiss. The customers cheered around them, drowning out the slurs being shouted with their claps and approving shouts.

As they parted, Bofur gave a mocking bow to the protestors and pulled Nori back inside. They had toys to sell.

That day was their most successful sale in the shops history.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs.,? I take requests and read them all!
> 
> Thank you for reading. :)


	22. Bombur/OC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bombur met Delilah during a sorrowful time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, I'm kind of burned out trying to write these stories to make up for the days I missed. So two short, but sweet ones for you today. But now I'm caught up. And my first story featuring Bombur! He's so cute. Enjoy!

Bombur had met Delilah in a sorrowful time. Bifur had just had his accident and was in the ICU, a chunk of metal sticking from his forehead. None of the doctors had much hope for him. The red haired man didn't give up though.

He visited everyday, often with Bofur by his side. He would sit beside his dear cousin's bed, talking about everything and nothing, all the while stitching away at the quilt in his lap. Delilah was one of Bifur's nurses.

"Where did you learn to sew," she asked him one day, smiling prettily at him. Her chubby cheeks were rosy red and Bombur imagined they were as soft as a peach.

"My grandmother," he replied, a fond smile on his face when he thought of her. "She made the most wonderful quilts and wanted one of her grandchildren to learn how, seeing as none of her children did. I was the only one to really pick it up."

"It's beautiful," she informed him. Bombur felt himself blush, modest to a fault.

"Oh, it's nothing. Really just something I'm scrapping together to give to Bifur when he wakes up. He's always very cold."

She nodded in understanding.

"That's a good idea. I'm sure he will much prefer something you made to these hospital blankets. They're awfully scratchy."

That was the first time anyone beside him and Bofur talked about Bifur waking up. Bombur didn't know how much he needed to hear that before Delilah said it. Tears filled his eyes, which he quickly brushed away.

"Thank you."

She gave him another pretty smile.

After that he saw her often. She seemed to be the nurse always checking in on Bifur when he was around, and took her breaks around the same time he would go down to the cafeteria for lunch. Soon they were eating together. Bombur looked forward to those lunches.

"Here, try these," she said, opening a little tupperware container and offering him a muffin. "I made this morning. Much better than the stuff they sell here."

Bombur happily took one, stuffing it whole in his mouth. Crumbs dribbled from his lips, causing her to giggle and brush them out of his beard. He blushed, but didn't move away. Instead he gave an exaggerated groan and a thumbs up, letting her know how delicious he found her treat. It was true. He had never tasted anything better.

"I'm glad you like it," she smiled, blond hair falling around her face.

Bifur woke up three days after that, groggy and confused. In fact, if it weren't for the fact that his eyes were open and he was mumbling Bombur would think he was still asleep.

"That's common," Delilah explained patiently. "He went through a trauma and won't be back to his normal self for awhile yet. But he's awake! And the doctors are hopeful for a good recovery."

Bombur had swept her into a large hug then, picking her clean off her feet in his enthusiasm. He gave Bifur the quilt he made that night.

From that moment on, Bombur and Delilah were nearly inseparable. She helped him nurse Bifur back to health, sneaking them homemade food instead of the drab hospital meals. Bombur in turn sewed her a quilt of her own, his best yet if he were inclined to boast. He wasn't, instead handing to her with a red face and bashful smile. She loved it, taking it with her nearly everywhere she went.

On the day Bifur was able to walk without the need of any aid, nearly a year after his accident, Bombur asked her to marry him. She smiled, chubby cheeks rosy and soft as a peach, and said yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	23. Nori/Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The masquerade held by the wealthy Baggins family was the perfect place for a thief to apply his trade. Nori was that thief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, some NorixBilbo. It's nice writing an unusual pairing. It breaks up the writing blocks I hit when writing my normal pairings and gets the ideas flowing. Enjoy!

It was the event of the season.

The annual masquerade held as Bag End, the illustrious manner of Lord Bungo Baggins and Lady Belladonna Took nee Baggins, that only the crème da la crème of society ever attended. To be invited was to be given a ticket into high society that never expired and only good things could come to those select few. Nori was not one of these lucky people. He was, however, attending. After all, with so many wonderfully wealthy people in one spot, complacent in their drunken festivities, it was only natural for a thief to slip amongst them and make a neat little profit. A little forgery courtesy of Bofur, who owed him a large favor, and suddenly Nori had an invitation of the ball of the year and it would be quite rude to decline such an honor.

So he went, flashing his forged papers to the attendant at the front gate, his face hidden behind a mask of gold. It was all too easy to get inside. For being quite a wealthy and influential family, the Baggins’ were surprisingly lax in proper security. Something they would pay dearly for by tomorrow morning, thanks for Nori’s light fingers.

Once inside he mingled for awhile, charming group after group with his wit and humor, though never staying long to make too lasting of an impression. Just enough for those present to remember the man in the gold fox mask fondly and thus never suspect him in being the culprit of their missing pearls or diamonds.

An hour after all this, with his pockets bulging ever so slightly with his newly acquired goodies, he set forth the next part of his plan. Though, it wasn’t much of a plan. More of an idea. The idea being something bigger and more expensive. He would find out exactly what they thing was when he found it.

With all the grace of a thief he slipped away from the main party rooms, sneaking to the upper levels of the manor that were quiet and away from the revelry. His steps were muffled against the carpet as he made his way further into the grand home, leading him from room to room. He passed libraries, tea rooms, bedrooms, music rooms, all sorts of rooms. None, however, had anything of real value in them. Perhaps a first addition book, but Nori wasn’t an expert in those things so he didn’t want to waste his one chance on something that could or could not be worth wild.

After searching for a few minutes he finally found a room that seemed promising. A locked door. Only the very best things were hidden behind locked doors. With a thrilled smirk, he quickly took care of lock, easily breaking in with a few deft twists of his pick. The door swung open, revealing what looked to be a personal study. Leather chairs sat before a large fireplace and there was a large desk situated by the window, cherry wood by the looks of it. Floor to ceiling bookshelves took up one wall and a large, very old looking map took up the other one. Just the kind of place to hide a safe box full of family heirlooms.

He crept inside, keen eyes searching for any sign of disturbance in the otherwise orderly room. Dust that had been disturbed, scratches on the floor where furniture had been moved, things like that. Nothing immediately jumped out at him, but he didn’t give up. He had a very good instinct on these things, like a metal detector in a platinum mine. Something was here and he would find it.

Unfortunately for him, he was so focused on finding what it was that was hidden in the room that he didn’t realize he had company until it was too late. The sound of the door deliberately shutting had him spinning around, startled at the sight of a short man with curly blond hair with a green and blue hummingbird mask on his face.

“I won’t insult you by suggesting you are lost,” the man said. Nori couldn’t see his face, but he was certain his eyes twinkled mischievously behind his mask. He knew when his cover was blown.

“No, definitely not lost,” he replied, keeping his tone casual and light. It wouldn’t do to scare the man into thinking he was dangerous and shouting for help. If he played things correctly, he might be able to leave tonight with the trinkets in his pocket still in his possession.

The man hummed, walking the perimeter of the room in a manner to spoke of familiarity.

“I also imagine you aren’t here because, like me, you were hoping for a break from all the happy party goers below?”

Nori knew he was being teased. This man knew exactly what he was doing and was enjoying his little game. To keep what little control he had the red head put a quick stop to that.

“I’m a thief,” he bluntly informed with a casual shrug. “I steal things.”

The man grinned widely at him, flashing white teeth.

“Yes, I know. I’ve been watching you all night,” he replied, equally as blunt. That certainly had surprised Nori. “I feel like I must warn you, though. The necklace you took from Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, the woman in the garishly yellow dress, is fake. Not that she would ever admit to that.”

Frowning, Nori took said necklace out of his pocket and held it up, letting what little light from the room pour through the stones. Sure enough the diamonds strung together weren’t actually diamonds, rather a high quality glass. To the untrained eye they would certainly seem real, until you dropped them on the floor and watched them shatter into a million pieces.

“Pity,” he commented, throwing the worthless thing across the floor. “If they were real they would have fetched a pretty penny.”

The other man nodded sympathetically.

“Never steal from Lobelia, unless you know it’s something that she herself stole first. The woman is notorious for passing off subpar pieces as priceless gems. People let her get away with it because calling her out on the matter would mean listening to her whine and fuss. Believe me, it’s the lesser of two evils.”

Nori found himself starting to like this man, with his teasing manners and dry words. Plus, the fact that he saw Nori stealing from the other guests the entire night and had yet to report him to anyone of authority.

“So what now,” he asked, truly curious as to what the man would do.

The stranger shrugged.

“I guess I could let you continue to search my study, but I doubt you would find where my safe box is. Instead I might inform you that there is a vase in the library in the south corridor on the third floor that is worth about as much as four elephants weigh and that no one will be think to check there until late next week, when the Old Took comes for his weekly tea visit and tour of the house.”

Again, Nori was surprised. It wasn’t just some random party goer to catch him mid-heist, but the son and heir to the Baggins’ fortune himself. Bilbo Baggins. And he was helping him get away with his thievery. Why?

He asked him just this.

Bilbo shrugged, eyes once again alight with mischief.

“It’s an ugly vase.”

Nori couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped his lips. He really liked this man.

“Well, I should be going,” Bilbo finally said, rocking back on his heels. “Mother will be missing me by now and I would hate for her to send someone to come looking for me. Imagine the rumors that would start if they found me in room with a strange man. The scandal!”

Nori grinned.

“You could do so much worse than me, Mister Baggins,” he cheekily informed. Bilbo laughed and winked at him from behind his mask.

“Prove it than, Mister Thief. Have dinner with me, tomorrow night.”

“I’ll do that and I’ll take you somewhere nice. After all, I’m expecting a nice pay raise soon.”

“Until tomorrow than.”

With another cheeky wink, he was gone, leaving Nori alone in the study. The red head waited a few moments before venturing out into the hall. No sign of Bilbo. With a mad grin on his face he made his way to the southern part of the mansion, already planning on where he would take the man for dinner. First, though, he had a vase to steal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I started my horseback riding class for the semester (a PE requirement for my degree) and it means I'm up at 6AM and going until 4PM with the way my schedule worked out. I'm exhausted!
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	24. Fili/Ori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori has never seen Fili cry. He is determined to fix that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first OrixFili fic, something cute and light. Enjoy!

It was a thought that struck Ori out of the blue one morning, with no obvious trigger or reason behind it. It just suddenly appeared in his mind and he could think of nothing else but that.

“I’ve never seen you cry,” he told his boyfriend, interrupting their silent reading session. Fili looked up from his book with a nonchalant look and shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess not,” he replied before turning back to his book. Ori was not so easily distracted. He shut his own book with a snap and crawled over the couch until he was practically sitting on Fili.

“How have we been dating for three years and I have never seen you cry,” he wondered, pushing his boyfriend’s book down so that he was focused on him. The blond gave him a half-smile, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“I’m just not a big crier, never have been. Kili’s the emotional one.”

That wasn’t the answer Ori had wanted. With a huff, he settled himself more firmly on his boyfriend’s legs, determined to talk about this new information until he was satisfied.

“Everyone cries though! It’s a natural human reaction. When was the last time you shed a few tears?”

Fili knew that he wouldn’t be finishing his book anytime soon with the way his boyfriend was, but decided to humor him on the subject. He gave the question actual thought.

“Probably when I was six and broke my arm? Those were tears of pain, though. I guess emotional tears would be when my dad died, but I was so young I don’t even remember if I did cry or not.”

It was an honest answer, but from the look of horror on Ori’s face not the one he wanted.

“Seriously? That long? That’s not healthy! You need a good cry,” he exclaimed, jumping from his spot and hurrying around their living room. Fili watched with amusement as he began to frantically dig through their movie shelf, picking out random DVDs and piling them on their coffee table.

“What are you doing,” he asked, watching the pile grow larger and larger.

“You are going to cry, Fili Durin, if it’s the last thing you do! We’re having a sad movie day, starting with this,” Ori replied, holding up a case with a boy and a yellow Labrador retriever on the front. The title read **Old Yeller**.

Fili knew he would get nothing done for the rest of the day.

XxxX

The clock on their cable box flashed 9:28, approximately eleven hours since Ori put in the first movie. The room was littered with balled up tissues, though it should be noted that none of them belonged to Fili.

“How have you not shed a single tear,” Ori sniffed, his eyes puffy and nose red from all the crying he had done. The poor man had wept pitifully through each film so far, some more dramatically than others.

“I’m sorry, love. None of these things effect me like they do you,” Fili replied, honestly sorry that Ori was getting upset over all this. What did it matter if he didn’t cry? He was perfectly fine.

“I just don’t get it! We’ve watched Old Yeller, Titanic, Schindler’s List, and the goodbye scene in Armageddon. Those are classics that would have the toughest guy weeping like a baby. But with you, nothing!”

Fili had never heard Ori sound so disappointed. He didn’t know why this was so important to his boyfriend but didn’t want him to feel hurt.

“Hey, just because those movies didn’t work doesn’t mean others won’t,” he tried to console. Ori didn’t look at all convinced, a pout forming on his lips at his perceived failure. Fili quickly grabbed a random DVD off the coffee table and offered it to him.

“Here, play this one. I’m sure it will make me cry,” he offered. Ori reluctantly took it, looking at the title.

“ **Lilo & Stitch 2: Stitch Has a Glitch**,” he read, doubt clearly coloring his words. The blond nodded, though he himself wasn’t sure a direct to movie Disney sequel would effect him where Oscar films hadn’t. Still, anything to make Ori happy.

“Alright then.”

The red head popped in the movie and cuddled next to his boyfriend. The opening scene began and they watched the story play out on the screen.

An hour later the sounds of violent sobbing drowned out any noise coming from the TV.

“W-why is this a kid’s movie,” Fili wailed, watching as Stitch died in Lilo’s arms.

Ori just smiled and handed him the tissue box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was inspired by me, for some reason, feeling the need to watch the last scene in Lilo & Stitch 2 and sobbing like a baby. Seriously, I'm 22 and that scene has me wailing like my dog died. It's crazy!
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	25. Thorin/Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo didn't like surprise visits. Thorin is there to calm him down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick little Thilbo while I work on a request by a reader, also a Thilbo. Enjoy! :)

When Thorin came back from picking up the boys from school that day, it was to a husband frantically tearing through the house, cleaning everything in sight.

"Has papa gone mad," little Frodo asked, watching his dad obsessively polish the dining room table.

"Possibly," Thorin replied. Bilbo wasn't a cleaner by nature. He was tidy, but never one to worry over a little mess. To see him cleaning like he was now was unusual, and meant something had happened.

"Bilbo," he cautiously asked, approaching his frazzled husband. "Any particular reason you've decided to start spring cleaning in autumn?"

The curly haired man stopped his mad cleaning, only to glare daggers at Thorin

"Your relatives, dear husband, called me thirty minutes ago. They are visiting from their home country and decided to stop by to see us. Isn't that grand!"

From his tone of voice Thorin gathered that it was the exact opposite of grand. Thorin cringed. His family was a hassle to deal with when you had adequate time to prepare. To spring it on them so suddenly, on Bilbo so suddenly was crazy.

"And how many of them will be here," he asked hesitantly. Bilbo's glare intensified, if that was at all possible.

"All of them," he hissed, resuming his cleaning.

With a resigned sigh, Thorin rolled up his sleeves and began to follow his husband's lead.

"Boys, go clean your rooms," he instructed as he grabbed a broom and began to sweep.

"Okay, da," Fili replied, grabbing his brothers hands and pulling them upstairs. Thorin was sure they would get things done, which left him to focus on Bilbo.

"Did they give you an estimate of when they would be here," he asked. Bilbo shook his head, moving onto dusting the china cabinet.

"Of course they didn't! They just said they would be here in time for dinner and that they would be hungry. I haven't even thought of dinner yet," he exclaimed, words becoming more and more crazed as the reality of the situation made itself known to him.

Thorin, sensing a panic attack right around the corner, hurriedly set aside his broom and grabbed his husband by the arms.

"Bilbo," he calmly spoke, leaning down to look him in the eyes. "Breathe! Everything will be fine. You know my family won't care if this house isn't spotless when they arrive and we can order pizza for dinner. This isn't like when the Sackville-Baggins drop by. We actually like my family, as crazy as they are."

His words had the right effect, Bilbo slowly calming down. He let out a tired chuckle, running his fingers through his tussled hair.

"You're right," he replied with a half smile. "I'm being crazy. They'll be happy just to see everyone and won't even notice if I used my best doilies."

Thorin grinned, pulling his husband in for a hug.

"Exactly. Let's just order food and hide everything breakable and we'll be fine."

Bilbo sighed, hugging him back fiercely,

"What would I do without you," he wondered.

"Go crazy," Thorin replied without hesitation. Biblo chuckled again.

"Probably."

The two stood like that for a few more moments, enjoying each other's presence. Then the doorbell rang, and the sound of muffled shouts and laughter came from behind the front door.

"Well," Bilbo exclaimed, breaking the hug and brushing off his waistcoat. "Time to be a host!"

Thorin watched him walk off to answer the door with the smile. They would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's story was inspired by actual events that took place today. I came home from my morning class, only to find my mom cleaning like a crazy woman. Apparently my dad's cousin and wife are visiting friends near where we live and decided to stop by for a visit. We had a twenty minute warning. This isn't the first something like this has happened either. When I was a girl and we lived in Hawaii, my aunty from my mom's side called us one day asking for address. Thirty minutes later she's at our front door. From California. Gotta love family!
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	26. Fili/Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili hated sunshine, now that Kili was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and angsty.

_Hold me close and hold me fast_   
_This magic spell you cast  
This is la vie en rose_

He hated sunny days now. They used to spend sunny days together, lounging in the grass, kissing beneath the trees, watching the sun set. Now every sunny day reminded him of what he lost. Of Kili.

_When you kiss me heaven sighs_   
_And though I close my eyes  
I see la vie en rose_

Fili shut his blinds, blocking out the sunshine. It had been three months since he left, leaving him broken and alone. Left him for her, the pretty woman with red hair. An acceptable bride for a Durin man.

_When you press me to your heart_   
_I am a world apart  
A world where roses bloom_

Now he's alone, with only memories. Even the lingering scent of his lover in his sheets has long since faded, replaced with drunken sick and tears. He missed him so much.

_And when you speak angels sing from above  
Everyday words seem to turn into love songs_

Now he was alone, so alone. The worst part, though, is that he knows Kili doesn't love her. Not really. If he did, love her that is, Fili would have let him go with a sad, but understanding heart. He doesn't though. He just loves the idea of her, how proper and acceptable it was. Now they were both doomed to misery.

_Give your heart and soul to me  
And life will always be la vie en rose_

The sun began to peek through his blinds. He hated sunshine. He wished it would rain.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	27. BilboxThorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The funeral was held on a Wednesday. Bilbo thought Gandalf deserved to be buried on a Sunday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, a Thorin and Bilbo story where they lose a mutual friend who gave Bilbo good advice and now he is worried how he will go on without him. Enjoy!

The funeral was held on a Wednesday, the most bleak day of the week. Somehow, Bilbo didn't think it fit. Gandalf had always been larger than life, full of awe and wonder. He deserved to be buried on a Sunday. Gandalf's living brothers, Saruman and Radagast obviously thought differently. This Wednesday was chosen.

He sat on the curb outside the house the wake was being held at, not at all caring that his lovely suit was getting dirty and wrinkled. Today wasn't a day for worrying over silly things. He had even forgotten his handkerchief that morning. Bilbo was sure Gandalf would have found much amusement in that. The old man was often amused by Bilbo's mannerisms, much to the younger man's chagrin.

"Barmy, old wizard," he grumbled fondly, a soft smile appearing on his face at the memories he had of his old friend.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to speak ill of the dead."

He looked up in surprise, not expecting company on his lonely curb. Thorin looked down at him, dressed in somber black but with a half smirk on his face. He was obviously teasing Bilbo.

"The old man would have been offended if all we spoke of at his funeral was how wise, noble, and benevolent he was. He would much rather we talk about his meddling ways and insufferable habit of being late," he replied, scooting over to let his friend sit beside him. Thorin took the offer, settling down with a sigh.

"There is truth in that. He loved to think he played such a small role in the affairs of others, but we all know he was a nosy busybody."

Bilbo snorted.

"Now who's speaking ill of the dead?"

The two fell into a companionable silence for awhile, their friendship having long since passed the need to fill the time with idle chatter. They simply took comfort in each other's presence. Bilbo, however, was the first one to break it.

"Do you remember how he introduced us," he asked, eyes unfocused as he thought about his question.

"I do," Thorin replied. "Convinced me you were the perfect person to help take back my father's company, despite the fact that you had no training corporate espionage or even cyber security. You were a tax accountant."

"Got the job done, didn't I? He was right, in the end," Bilbo huffed. Thorin spoke the truth. When they first met, all those years ago, Bilbo was the least qualified person to help him on his quest. Gandalf didn't think that though. He saw something in Bilbo that others didn't. He always did. And now he was gone.

The reality seemed to sink in with his then.

"Oh god," he gasped, letting his head drop between his knees and his hands muffle his sobs. Gandalf was dead and Bilbo had no idea how to go on without him. He had always been by his side, since birth, carefully guiding him along. Now he was gone.

"What do I do, Thorin," he sobbed, unable to stop. "Gandalf has always been there. He is the one who encouraged me to follow you, to stand up to the Sackville-Baggins, to take in Frodo. Frodo! I can't raise that boy on my own. I don't know how."

He was panicking now, he knew that. His sobs had turned into shallow gasps and his vision was going spotty. He couldn't stop, though. All these fears were real.

Gandalf had been the one he turned to when he needed help. When Frodo got the flu, he called the man at 3am and he gently coached him through what to do. Later, when he and the boy had their first real fight as guardian and child, Gandalf had reassured him that Frodo didn't hate him and that he was doing a good job raising him. Bilbo needed him, but couldn't have him anymore.

He felt a pair of strong arms wrap around him, Thorin pulling him tightly against his body. Bilbo used the embrace as an anchor, tethering him to the moment and not letting his thoughts overwhelm him.

"Breath, Bilbo," he softly encouraged, taking deep, exaggerated breathes as an example. "Just breath."

In and out, he followed Thorin's lead. Slowly, but surely, he calmed down. Thorin began to speak again.

"Gandalf is gone, but he is not forgotten. He has taught you so much and still has a lot left to teach you, which you will learn. One day you'll be lecturing Frodo on being late, and his words will pop into your head. _'A gentleman is never late. He arrives precisely when he means to.'_ A little lesson about how lack punctuality can be forgiven in the right circumstances."

Bilbo listened to his words, letting the deep timber of his voice calm him as much as his breathing did. Thorin continued.

"You are doing an excellent job raising Frodo. I have never met a more well behaved and charming lad than him, all thanks to you. It's scary suddenly being without your mentor, but you won't fail. I promise."

The curly haired man shifted so he was looking up at his friend, warm summer sky eyes looking into cold winter ones.

"You really think so," he asked meekly, needing reassurance.

Thorin gave him a soft smile.

"I do. And if you ever need advice, call me. I helped raise Fili and Kili, so I know a thing or two about parenting."

Bilbo snorted, unable to stop himself.

"That would work on someone who has never met those two hellions. I am not one of them!"

Thorin chuckled, not at all denying the terrors his nephews were. They were good boys, but most defiantly rough around the edges.

"How about we head back inside," he said instead. "You can talk to Gandalf's strange cousins, the ones from the east."

Bilbo frowned. He knew who he was talking about, though he couldn't quite remember their names.

"Who wears sky blue to a funeral," he wondered aloud, thinking of the attire the two cousins had chosen to wear.

Thorin shrugged.

"Saruman is wearing white and Radagast is in brown velvet. Gandalf is probably the most normal one that family."

Bilbo shook his head.

"No," he said, a fond smile on his face. "Gandalf is many things, but normal is never one of them."

Barmy, old wizard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? It wasn't romance, but I think it would have been too much stuffed in there if it had been. Still, I'm quite happy with how it turned out.
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all! I try to fulfill as many as I can, so if you don't see yours being done just know that I am working on it. It takes time, though. Thanks for reading!


	28. BardxThranduil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo suggested this group to him. Bard was reluctant to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of a focus on Bard with a dash of Thranduil in the end. I'm having a hard time writing a convincing romance with these two, so this will have to do for now.

Bilbo had been the one to suggest the group to him, having used it himself when he suddenly found himself the guardian of his young nephew after the tragic deaths of his cousins. He had resisted for awhile, convincing himself that if he were able to care for his children than nothing was wrong. That his wife hadn't died, leaving him alone to raise three children, one of which was a newborn, and barely making ends meet. It was a pretty lie, a lie he believed for far too long.

Sigrid had convinced him in the end. Little Sigrid, ten years old but with the weight of the world on her shoulders. A weight she bore with surprising strength.

She approached him one night, bags under her eyes from all the nights she woke to feed Tilda or soothe Bain's nightmares. Nights he spent working at the docks to ensure they had enough for food and rent.

"Da, please," she softly begged, clutching the blanket her mother made her to her chest. The only child like gesture she still maintained. "I don't want you to die to. Mr. Bilbo said these people can help you not bed sad anymore."

It broke his heart, seeing his young daughter like this. He called Bilbo that night, after putting Sigrid to bed with a promise that he would try, asking for the information and if he could watch his kids while he went. He agreed wholeheartedly.

"Of course, Bard. You can drop them off on your way there. We'll have a pizza and movie night, it'll be great."

So there he was, standing at the edge of a high school gymnasium, clutching a styrofoam cup of bad coffee watching the others members mingle and chat with each other. He glanced at the clock. Five minutes until the meeting officially began. There was a set of folding chairs placed in the center, forming an ominous circle with their presence. A few were already occupied, one by a man a few years older than himself, another by another man older still. There was also a woman with long, blonde nearly white hair and deep blue eyes. He couldn't tell her age, but was sure she was much older than he was.

Gathering his courage, he approached the circle and took the chair nearest to the door. The woman gave him a soft, gentle smile. He attempted to return it, but he was sure it came out as a grimace.

The clock ticked loudly, and like some beacon of fire, the rest of the people came to fill in the chairs.

The woman spoke.

"Thank you all for coming this evening. Before we begin, I see we have a new member. So, let's all introduce ourselves so we aren't strangers any longer. My name is Galadriel, I'm am a mother and a grandmother. Unfortunately, I lost my daughter a few years back from cancer. My granddaughter is now living with my husband and I while her father takes care of her brothers, twin teenage boys. She is a joy to have around, but I confess it's hard to raise a child after my own was grown for so long."

And so it went. One by one they all introduced themselves. The first man Bard noticed, a man name Theoden was the guardian of his nephew and niece, after his sister and brother-in-law died in a car accident. The other man was Denethor, a widower who enjoyed praising his eldest son but seemed to only find fault in his youngest. Bard found he didn't like him all that much.

Finally, it was his turn.

"My name is Bard Bowman and I'm a father of three children. Two girls and a boy," he explained, but found that he couldn't quite finish.

"Tell us why you're here, Bard," Galadriel gently encouraged, that soft and comforting smile on her face.

"My friend, Bilbo Baggins recommended this group to me. I didn't want to come, but my eldest daughter insisted. She said she was afraid I would die, like her...mother. So I came."

The was all he could say. He stared down at the coffee in his hand, refusing to look at the others. He was sure they were looking at him with pity.

"Thank you, Bard," Galadriel said. "We are glad you came and hope you can find the something here that will help you. Let's move on."

The rest of the night he sat silently, listening to the other parents and guardians. The topic for the night was teenagers and sex, something he certainly wasn't worried about just yet. Still, he found that it helped. Listening to these strangers share their stories and experiences, leaning on each other for support. By the end of the meeting his found that he wouldn't quite mind coming back.

He walked out to his car, carefully avoiding the after meeting mingling that the others seemed to favor. He wasn't ready for that just yet.

He made it to the parking lot when someone caught him.

"It gets easier," the voice said, grabbing his attention.

Bard turned around with a frown, looking at the blond man who had obviously been the one to speak.

"What did you say?"

The blond approached him, dressed in clothes that Bard was sure cost more than his car.

"I said it gets easier. All of it. This group helps," the stranger said.

Bard suddenly recognized him.

"You're Thranduil. You have a son, and a foster daughter," he clarified. The man nodded.

"And a dead wife, like you."

Bard felt himself tense. No one had ever said it so bluntly. Thranduil seemed unconcerned.

"I hated when everyone would tip toe around me after my wife's death, as if I didn't know she died. I won't insult you by doing the same. Just know that, in time, the pain fades to something bearable. You're able to sleep all night and get up in the morning with a smile. You'll think of her with a smile and it won't hurt to see her in your children. Just give it time."

He didn't know what to say. So he kept it simple.

"Thank you."

Thranduil waved him off.

"Don't thank me. Just show up next week so that the next time Denethor goes on and on about his perfect son I'll have someone to commiserate with."

Bard couldn't help but smile at that. Denethor really was an annoying man.

"I will," he promised.

Thranduil smirked at him.

"I look forward to it."

Then he walked away, leaving Bard alone. The other man turned to head toward his car. He would get Bilbo to watch his kids next week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long week. And Monday is the start of another one. Ugh!
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. I try to respond and write as many as I can, while still keeping my own ideas flowing, so please be patient. Thanks for reading!


	29. Bilbo/Dwalin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dwalin had shoved the hastily written number into his hand, Bilbo was sure he was going to use. Just, not for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, a Dwalin/Bilbo story involving a drunken one night stand leading to a surprise pregnancy. Enjoy!

When Dwalin had shoved the hastily written number into his hand, Bilbo doubted it was for the reason he was about to use it. Their drunken one night together had been good, very good in fact, that neither was against a repeat in the future

"Give me a call sometime," the large man had grunted as he slid his arms into his leather jacket. "And you don't have to be drunk."

Bilbo had laughed at that, promising he would call. Both had know this was a simple friends with benefits kind of thing, though the friends part was a bit of a stretch. They had only met in a bar, through mutual friends who had been friends with each other. Seriously, they had a closer relationship to Kevin Bacon before they met that night.

That was all about to change though, and Bilbo wasn't too sure it would go well.

He hit the call button and pressed the phone to his ear, valiantly clinging to his courage. He needed to make this call.

After the third ring he picked up.

"Up for another go," Dwalin said as way of greeting, voice lecherous and oh so arousing. Bilbo wished that was the reason for calling.

"I'm pregnant."

Silence fell on the other line.

XxxX

They met up the next day, at a little coffee shop that played decent music and didn't charge a fortune for a cappuccino. Bilbo stuck with decaf.

"When did you find out," Dwalin asked, trying to look Bilbo in the eye but his gaze kept dropping down to his stomach. The other man didn't blame him, though it was still too early to tell he had a bun in the oven. His belly pudge would make sure it would be awhile yet before anyone suspected anything.

"A few hours before I called you. I took three different tests to be sure," he replied softly.

Dwalin nodded and seemed to want to ask another question, but hesitated. After a few moments he did.

"And you're sure it's mine?"

Again, Bilbo didn't blame him. It was a valid question and this was a big deal. Dwalin had the right to know for sure.

"Yes," he answered. "The only other person I've been with in the past three months was someone I topped. Plus, she was mid transition and hormones had effected her fertility. No chance of her being the father."

The bigger man seemed to be taking this well, though that might just be the shock taking over. For all Bilbo knew, he might have a full fledged panic attack later on when the reality fully set in. He hoped not.

"What do you plan on doing?"

Another valid question. Bilbo had only a short time to get used to the idea, but knew he had to make a decision soon.

"I'm not sure. I would like to keep it, but need to really think about this. A baby is a big responsibility. Even though I can financially support it, I'm not sure if I'm emotionally ready to be a parent."

Dwalin nodded again.

"What ever your decision you have my support. If you want to keep it, I'll be there to help. If you decide not to, I'll be by your side the whole time. It takes two to make a baby and I won't let you do this alone."

It was like a weight Bilbo didn't know he had been carrying was suddenly lifted from his shoulders. Knowing he wasn't alone in this was the greatest relief.

He reached out across the table and grabbed Dwalin's hand in a gentle grip.

"Thank you."

XxxX

He decided to keep the baby, something Dwalin was in fully support of. Plans were quickly made, appointments scheduled, and suddenly it didn't seem so scary. With Dwalin by his side it was bearable, even fun.

Then, however, came the day they told their parents. Needless to say, neither set had been overly thrilled.

"A child out of wedlock? Dwalin, you'll bring shame to this family," Fundin Durin had exclaimed, slamming his hand down on the table. Dwalin's mother had begun to weep the moment the news had been shared.

Bilbo's parents had reacted much the same.

"You need to get married. You are a Baggins of Bag End and your respectability will not be ruined over this."

Bungo Baggins was rarely so outspoken, but in this matter he was adamant. His mother, Belladonna, was more understanding but equally certain marriage was the only way to go.

"Think of the baby, Bilbo. It deserves a family, not just a weekend visit from one parent or the other. It's not fair."

Now here they were, in a cramped little office in city hall, their parents standing menacingly behind them. Bilbo reached out for Dwalin's hand, needing the support. The other man gladly gave it, bringing his hand to his lips in a gentle kiss. Bilbo smiled shakily at him.

Somehow, this seemed far scarier than the prospect having a baby alone. Maybe because the choice had been all but taken from him.

Suddenly it hit him all at once. How was this fair? Their baby would get two parents, but he had that before all this wedding nonsense. Hadn't Dwalin assured him he would have his support, no matter what? Dwalin, the amazing man who was willing to sign his life away to a man he hardly knew because he thought it was what he wanted. This wasn't fair to him, or Bilbo, or their baby. Damn what their parents thought!

"This isn't right," he said, looking at the father of his child. "We shouldn't have to get married just because we're having a baby."

He ignored the indignant gasps behind him. He continued to address Dwalin.

"You said you would support me in any choice I made," he asked, needing to hear it again.

Dwalin nodded and answered without hesitation.

"Yes."

Bilbo grinned, squeezing his hand tightly.

"My choice is to have this baby out of wedlock."

The other man's eyebrows raised in surprise, but his own smile quickly took over. He kissed his hand again.

"I would be honored if you had my bastard."

Bilbo laughed, suddenly feeling so light and free.

"I'm sorry, it looks like we wasted your time today," he apologized to the officiate. The young man waved him off, a shy smile on his face.

"Not at all. Marriage is something not to be taken lightly. I'm glad you two are making this decision for yourselves."

Bilbo was glad of the support. Turning around, he smiled at the parents behind him.

"No wedding today. Sorry!"

The was all he said before dragging Dwalin out of that little room before they could stop them.

Their parents would bluster and sulk for awhile, but Bilbo was sure they would get over it in time. And if not, that was their problem. Not his and not Dwalin's.

Nine months later their son was brought into the world. Three months after that Dwalin got down on one knee and proposed. This time Bilbo said yes without hesitation, because this time it was his choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And February is complete! Phew! Glad I got there in the end, despite the sick days. Thanks for reading everyone and I'll see you next month.
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. I also try to respond to them all. :)


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